


The Ryan Project

by Sydnaynay (bandable)



Series: p!atd works [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Angst, Based off of Dear Evan Hansen, Broken Bones, Crying, Everything Hurts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, For reasons, I tagged major just in case, M/M, Minor Character Death, Musicals, Ryan Ross is a dick in this, Sad, Sad Ending, Spencer and Ryan are adopted brothers, Suicide, Suicide Attempts, Suicide Notes, Why Did I Write This?, don't hate me, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandable/pseuds/Sydnaynay
Summary: Brendon Urie wants to fly through his senior year unnoticed, without having to write those stupid letters to himself like his therapist says he should. He doesn't want anyone to talk to him, knowing if they do, he'd just end up saying something stupid and embarrassing himself. In all reality, he just wants to disappear.Ryan Ross is the one who actually does disappear.OR ; Dear Evan Hansen with band members





	1. Anybody Have A Map?

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a bootleg of Dear Evan Hansen (I KNOW I'M AN AWFUL PERSON BUT I LIVE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY AND I'M BROKE AF AND WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO REALLY SEE IT) sometime in March, and I saw Panic! At The Disco on March 19th, and decided that this would be a good idea.
> 
> Just a heads up -- if you haven't seen Dear Evan Hansen, but plan to / don't want spoilers, don't read this. I'm trying to keep pretty close to the plot line of that and **some lines may be taken directly from songs/the show.**
> 
> I don't own any of the characters/lines/songs that belong to the writers of Dear Evan Hansen, this is just purely for fun.
> 
> There IS talk of suicide and an actual suicide in this, so please, please, please be careful while reading!! I don't want to trigger anyone in anyway. 
> 
> I think that's it, but if there's something I didn't tag and should have, PLEASE let me know!
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> (Couple things -- Ryan and Spencer are adoptive brothers, Ryan's a bit of a dick [for writing purposes, i love ryan ross], and all the characters are pretty much oc because of how the musical is lmao.)
> 
> [[also heads up i haven't edited this yet. i'm waiting to finish it lol]]

Brendon sat on his bed; his laptop open in front of him with an empty word document staring back. The blinding white rectangle on the screen was intimidating, and Brendon sighed, dragging his fingers over the cast on his right arm. He had another meeting with his therapist next week, and he had to have some letters written to show that he was trying to get better. Therapy was expensive, and his mom was working extra hours all the time to pay for it. Brendon let his hands drop, looking at the blank document one more time, before starting to type, whispering what he was writing out loud.

"Dear Brendon Urie," He started, "today's going to be a good day, and here's why. Because today, all you have to do is be... be yourself."

Brendon paused, looking up, it was off to an okay start, and he wasn't sure where to go from here. His room was eerily quiet, and he knew that his mom could show up any minute to make sure he was ready for school. He wanted at least part of the letter done before that happened.

"But also confident, like that's important. Like, easy to talk to, approachable, not intimidating at all, ya know? But also, be yourself, because that's the most important, just... be yourself. Oh, and don't worry about whether or not your hands are going to get sweaty for no reason and you can't make it stop no matter what you try, because that's not going to happen, so I don't even know why you're even mentioning it. It's not going to happen, if you just be yourself!" Brendon tended to ramble when his anxiety got especially bad, or if he hadn't taken his medication, or if he was doing something or talking about something that made him anxious. This marked two of those boxes.

"Don't even worry, because it's not going to be like the time you had the perfect chance to talk to Spencer Smith at the jazz band concert last May, when you waited just to see him after the show, just to tell him how good he was at the drums. And, and you were going to pretend to be like nonchalant and calm and collected, and be like, super whatever about the entire thing. But you didn't even end up saying anything to him, because you were too worried about your hands being sweaty! And they weren't even that sweaty, until you started worrying about them being sweaty, so you put them under the hand dryer in the bathroom, but they were still sweaty, they were just very warm now, as well." Brendon rambled, cringing at the awful memory, before realizing he was rambling, and took his hands off the keyboard.

It was at this moment when his mom walked in, holding the twenty that she had left for him to order food the night before, seeing as she was working the late-night shift again. "So, you didn't eat again last night?" She asked, as he closed the laptop quickly.

"I... I wasn't hungry," Brendon lied.

"Brendon, come on, you're a senior in high school now. You need to be able to order food for yourself. What are you going to do in college?" She asks, sitting next to him on the bed.

Brendon didn't make eye contact, deciding, rather, to pick at the cast on his arm. "You can do it online, now, too. You don't have to talk to anyone on the phone." She explains.

Brendon glances up, "Yeah, but that, that only fixes the problem until they come to the door, and then you still have to talk to them. Oh, and then they have to count the change, and then it's silent and awkward, and you just have to stand there and wait for them to give you your change ba-"

"Okay, okay, isn't this what you're supposed to be working on, with Doctor Wallace? Talking. To real people? Engaging with them? Not running away when things get a little scary?" She asks, rubbing his shoulder.

Brendon sighs, "You're right, I know, I'm gonna be a lot better this year, I promise." He says, trying to appease her, and move on from the topic at hand.

He loathed talking about his anxiety. He knew he had it, and he knew that it was causing a lot of stress on himself and his mom, and that it was the reason he didn't have a lot of friends. But he didn't want to talk about it all the time, he was trying to get better, and talking about it just made him more and more uncomfortable.

"I know you are!" His mother stands up, smiling at Brendon, "And that's why I made an appointment for you with Doctor Wallace after school today!"

She smiled as if this was the best news, but Brendon had an appointment _next_ week with him. And he was trying to avoid going to therapy as often as he could! "But, I thought I was seeing him next week?"

"Well, seeing as it's the first day, I thought you could use something a little sooner," She picks up his backpack and sets it on his bed for him.

"Hey," She turns to him, as if just remembering something, "Have you been writing letters to yourself like he said you should? _Dear Brendon Urie, today's going to be a good day, and here's why?_ "

"Oh, uh, yeah," He gestures to the closed computer, "I started one, I'll finish it at school."

She sighs, "Those letters are going to help you, they're going to help you build your confidence and talk to other people. They're really important, especially for this year."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I don't want another year of you sitting around every Friday night, saying that you have no friends, alright? You have to go put yourself out there! Seize the day!" She pulls his laptop off the bed, setting it on his desk.

Brendon rolls his eyes, "Neither do I," He stops making eye contact with her.

"Can we try to have a more optimistic outlook?" She asks, sitting back down, "Can we buck up, _just enough_ , to see the world won't fall apart?" Brendon swings his legs over to the other side of the bed, his back facing her.

"Hey, maybe this year, we decide that we won't give up before we've tried! This year, we'll make a new start!" She stands up, walking to the other side of the bed, "I know!" She points at his cast, grabbing a sharpie and handing it to him, "You can go around school and ask the other kids to sign your cast!"

Brendon doesn't make a move to grab the sharpie, so she waves it a little, pushing it more toward him. After another awkward second, she opens her mouth again, "Come on, Bren, that'd be the perfect ice breaker, wouldn't it?"

Brendon sighs, grabbing the sharpie, "Perfect." He says, as unenthusiastically as he could make himself sound.

Brendon's mom tries to keep the smile on her face, despite seeing how uninterested in the conversation Brendon was, "I'm proud of you already!" She tries, as he stands up and grabs his bag.

"Oh. Great." He says, walking out of the room, leaving his mother standing there, arms crossed, looking lost.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate all that his mom was trying to do for him, it was just... she didn't understand. She didn't understand what high school was like now, and that even if he asked kids to sign his cast, they probably wouldn't want to. That was the type of thing you did when you already had friends. No one wants to sign a stranger's cast.

Brendon understood that she was just trying to help. But when it came down to stuff like this, he wishes she just didn't push so hard.

Brendon's mom heard the front door shut and sat on Brendon's bed, putting her head in her hands. She felt like she was drowning in the situation. Brendon was all she had, and she just wanted to make life easier for him, and help him through the situation. She was desperately grasping at nothing, just trying to find her way through it all. She wanted to just get through to him, that she was there and that she loved him and cared for him, and was trying with everything she could to make his senior year good for him.

It seemed every time she tried to talk to him, it felt like she was stumbling for something okay to say. Something that he would understand, something that he would appreciate. Yet, each time, it felt as if she was coming up lost, and couldn't find a single way to get through to him. She wished there was a guide, or a map, on how to do this. She was barely holding it together, and she was sure everyone around her could tell that she didn't know _how_ to do this, she didn't know how to help her son with his mental illness, but she was _trying_. It just felt as if she was flying blind through a rainstorm, and making every single thing up as she went.

She took a deep breath, and stood up, grabbing her jacket. She had work, and her inner storm would have to wait a little while longer.

-

"No, Ryan, it's your senior year! You're not missing the first day of school!" Ryan's mother gestured wildly, almost hitting the coffee cup out of her husband's hand, as Ryan sat at the table, letting his head fall into his arms.

"I already said I would go tomorrow," His words muffled by his arms, "I'm trying to find a compromise.

His father sat down at the table, turning his phone on. Ryan's mom looked at his Dad shocked, "Are you going to get involved here, or are you too busy on your email, George?"

"You have to go to school, Ryan," His dad doesn't look up from his phone.

His mom slams the coffee onto the table, "That's all you have to say to him?"

"What do you want me to say? He doesn't listen to us," His dad argues, "Look at him, he's probably high!"

"He's definitely high," Ryan's adopted brother, Spencer, says from the kitchen, where he was making himself breakfast.

"Fuck you!" Ryan yells, and Spencer replies with the same thing just as fast.

"Hey, hey, I do not need you picking at your brother, Spencer, it's not helpful or necessary!" She scolds, but doesn't leave the dining room.

Spencer sticks his head into the dining room, giving her a look of unbelief, "Are you kidding?"

"Besides," She sits down, "He's not high."

Ryan lifts his head up, as the room falls silent, and look at his mom. She sighs exasperatedly, "Are you high?! I don't want you going to school high, Ryan!"

Ryan lifts his head up, grinning, grabbing his bag, and standing up. "Then I won't go. Thanks, mom!" He says, leaving the dining room, and leaving his mother standing there shocked.

She turns to her husband, who's glaring at his phone, "Traffic on I-84 is already shit," He grumbles.

Spencer groans, "Ugh, Ryan put the empty milk jug back in the fridge, _again_."

Ryan's mom was left without anything left to do, or say. It seemed that everything in her life was falling apart. She barely got along with her husband, her two kids pretty much hated each other, and she had burnt her coffee once again. Every time she tried to work through the mess of her life and family, she just came up to a dead end again.

"I'm going to head out," George says, standing up from the table, leaving his food untouched. He grabbed his briefcase, and left the house.

"If Ryan's not ready, I'm leaving without him," Spencer calls from the front doorway, and she hears a bunch of mumbled curse words as Ryan leaves as well.

As the door shuts, she's left with a messy table, cold, burnt coffee, and no better idea on how to get through to her family, and fix the issues. She sighed, grabbing her stuff, she knew she was making it up as she went, but there wasn't anything else she could do, especially not now. She had to get her day going before she went insane too.

She left the house, closing the door. Leaving her table as messy as her family life.


	2. Waving Through A Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon's first day sucks more than he expected, and he speculates on whether his life was always going to suck this much.

Brendon walks into the school just as the first bell rings. He kept his head down, trying to keep himself as invisible as he possibly could. If he could just get through today, he could go home, tell his mom the day was fantastic, sleep for 12 hours, and tell her he felt sick and couldn't go the next day.

It seemed the world was against him as Jon Walker stood in front of him in the hallway. Jon Walker wasn't rude or mean to him, but he was one of those kids who was constantly trying to out-do everyone around him. He was always doing something or other to become a better leader, and made sure everyone knew how great he was.

"Hey, how was your summer?" He asks Brendon, stopping the flow of students in the hallway, making many of them spit insults as they had to walk around them.

Brendon looked around, just to see if maybe Jon was talking to someone else. When he realized that he was definitely talking to him, he opened his mouth, "My su—"

"My summer was amazing!" Jon cut him off, "I did four different internships, and almost 50 hours of community service. I know, you don't have to say anything, it's pretty impressive."

"Oh, uh, yeah, wow that—" Brendon tries to add something to the conversation, but Jon wasn't done talking, yet, apparently.

"Even though I was _so_ busy, obviously, I still made some great friends—Oh, uh, or acquaintances, really." Jon fixes his backpack that was resting on one shoulder, all cool and nonchalant.

"Oh, yeah, that's great." Jon was one of the kids who acted like he had a lot of friends, but didn't, actually. If Brendon was going to be able to get anyone to sign his cast, Jon was probably his best bet. "Hey, do you maybe want to sign my ca—"

"Oh my god, what did you do to your arm?" Jon asks, only now noticing the stark white cast that took up half of Brendon's right arm.

"Oh, I uh... it's not a big deal... I just... broke it. See, I was climbing a tr—"

"Oh, really? My grandma once broke her hip trying to climb into the bathtub. The doctors said that was the beginning of the end for her, because then, she _died_." Brendon took a step back from Jon, more scared of him now then he was before. "Happy first day!" Jon said, his tone of voice changing, as he turned and walked away.

Brendon sighed, putting the sharpie back in his pocket, and continuing walking down the hallway. He just wanted to get to his locker, then first period. He was stopped at his locker by Dallon, though.

"Hey, Brendon," He started, leaning against the locker next to him, grinning slyly, "Is it weird being the _first_ person to break their arm from jerking off too much, or is this the kind of thing where you have like a trophy made?"

Dallon was talking just slightly too loud, and Brendon looked around desperately, praying no one heard him, "No, shut up, that's not what happened, obviously. I was just... I was climbing a tree, and the branch broke, and I fell and... broke my arm." He explained.

"You fell out of a tree?" Dallon laughed, throwing his head back, "What are you? Like, an acorn?"

"No, no, I well, I worked at Epsilon Park as like an apprentice park ranger over the summer... I'm pretty much a tree expert, not to brag, or anything." Brendon closed his locker, and nudged Dallon with his elbow.

Dallon crossed his arms, looking extremely uninterested, "And so, so I was trying to climb this like forty-foot oak tree," Brendon started his story again.

"And... then you fell." Dallon cut him off, again.

Brendon started walking down the hallway, and Dallon fell in step next to him. "But, but, it's a funny story, because for like... for like a solid ten minutes after I fell, I laid on the ground waiting for someone to come get me. Ya know, I was like, 'Any second now'... 'any second now, someone's gonna come'."

Brendon stopped, leaving Dallon confused, "Did they?"

"Oh! Yeah, no, no one came. That's what makes it so funny." Brendon says, smiling at Dallon slightly.

"Jesus Christ, you live a sad life," Dallon laughed.

"Oh, h-how was your summer?" Brendon asked, remembering that his therapist said that the best way to make friends was to ask the other person about themselves too, and keep the conversation from becoming one sided.

"Well, at camp, I totally dominated in pretty much every stupid game they made us do, and I got to second base with this girl who's going to be in the army," Dallon told him, as if that was the coolest thing to happen to anyone, "So, yeah, I think _that_ answers your question."

Dallon turns to walk the other direction, and Brendon, in a moment of desperate panic at wanting a friend, stopped him. "Hey, do you want to sign my cast?"

"Why are you asking me?" Dallon asked confused.

"Oh, uh, well... I thought... I thought that we were maybe kinda friends?" Brendon asked, putting the sharpie back in his pocket, and feeling really embarrassed.

Dallon sighed, putting a hand on Brendon's shoulders, "We're _family_ friends, Brendon. Our moms are friends, that's it." He turns to walk away, before stopping, "Hey, could you do me a favor, and tell your mom that I was nice to you? My mom said if I wasn't, she'd stop paying for my car insurance."

Brendon wanted to get out of this situation as fast as he possibly could. _This_ was the reason he didn't talk to people and didn't have many friends. Things got uncomfortable and he always humiliated himself, "Uh, yeah, yeah sure." He went to walk away, because he did not want to talk to Dallon anymore today.

Dallon pushed past him, grinning like he was going to do something stupid, which made Brendon turn around. He cringed, instantly, knowing that shit was about to go down, when he saw who Dallon was looking at. "Hey, Ryan! I like the new hair length, very... very, I'm-going-to-shoot-up-the-school-and-then-write-an-angsty-teen-poem-about-it!"

There was a tense silence, as Brendon closed his eyes, not wanting to see what unfolded, and Ryan stood there, glaring at Dallon. "I was just... joking..." Dallon said, getting a little worried.

Dallon had heard from Spencer about how crazy Ryan could get, but he always thought it was just a sibling thing. But with Ryan staring him down like that, he wasn't exactly sure. "Yeah, I know, it was funny. I'm laughing. Right? Oh, am I not laughing hard enough? Can you not _tell_ that I thought it was funny?" Ryan demanded, walking closer and getting into Dallon's face a little.

Dallon backed away, "You're such a freak," He said, making Brendon open his eyes and sigh as Dallon walked away.

Ryan whipped his head toward Brendon. "What the fuck are you laughing at?" Ryan demanded, thinking that Brendon's sigh of relief was a laugh.

"What?" Brendon asked, backing up, eyes widening comically.

"Stop fucking laughing at me!" Ryan moved closer to Brendon, who took another step back, putting his hands up in the 'I surrender' way.

"I'm not—"

"You think that I'm a freak? I'm not a freak."

"No, no, I don't—I wasn't lau—" Brendon tried to get through to Ryan, but Ryan wasn't having it.

"You're the fucking freak!" Ryan pushed Brendon into the lockers, before moving swiftly down the hallway.

Brendon stayed on the floor, debating if it was even worth getting up. First period hadn't even started yet, and his day _absolutely_ sucked already. He could already tell that this year was going to suck just as much as last year did. He wasn't ever going to stop being an awkward shit, and no one was ever going to want to be his friend if he kept slamming on the brakes before he even turned the key.

He just... he just didn't want anyone to see him make a mistake, or see him when his anxiety got too bad. It was embarrassing, and he just wanted to stay away from anything that could hurt him, or leave him ruined and upset... in the dirt... like now. But, on the other hand, he wanted friends. He didn't want to spend his life on the outside, always looking in. He wanted to go to college, he wanted to come out of his shell, and be more than who he was now.

He wasn't ever going to be able to do that if he was always tapping on the glass, waiting for an answer to appear. He was always going to be left on the ground, watching everyone else pass, and go on with their lives, as he just... kept waving through a window. He was always going to be on this side of things, just wanting... waiting... for something to change for him. He just wanted someone to hear, wanted someone to see... wanted someone to wave back at him.

He was about to get up, when a hand came into his vision. As he looked past it, his heart stopped, seeing a certain Spencer Smith connected to it. He smiled at him, "Hey, are you alright? I saw my brother pushed you, I'm sorry about him, he's a psychopath, I swear." Spencer helped Brendon up, and grabbed his bag for him.

"It's Brendon, right?" Spencer handed the bag back to him.

"Yeah, yeah, it's... it's Brendon." Brendon didn't make eye contact with Spencer, as he willed his hands to _please_ not get sweaty right now, for the love of God.

"I'm Spencer," Spencer puts a hand out to shake, and Brendon wipes his hand on his pant leg frantically, before grabbing it and shaking it.

"Yeah, I know..."

Spencer took his hand back awkwardly, "...You know?"

"Oh, no, no, that came out really creepy and stalker-ish. I swear I'm not creepy, nor stalker-y, I just meant that I've seen you play the drums in jazz band. I _love_ jazz. Well, like, not all jazz obviously. But like, jazz band jazz—I definitely like jazz band jazz." When Brendon saw the shocked look on Spencer's face, he backtracked as fast he could, "That's so weird, I'm sorry."

Spencer smiles, "You apologize a lot,"

"Sorry," Brendon replies, before turning away, "Stupid, stupid," And turning back.

Spencer laughs a little awkwardly, "Okay, well, I gotta—" He turns and begins to walk the other way, as the first bell rings.

Brendon panics again, "You don't want to sign my cast, do you?" He asks, before instantly regretting it.

Spencer turns back to him, "What?"

"What did you say?"

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, "I didn't say anything, you said something."

"No, what? Me? No way... Jose..." He says, rubbing his neck.

"Okay... Jose..." Spencer walks away a little faster than he usually does, and Brendon sighs.

It always started like this. Every potential friend he's ever had, it's always started with stars in his eyes... He starts believing that maybe, maybe _possibly_ he belonged. But, not everything worked out for him, and then no one would tell him where it all went to shit.

And then, after all of it _did_ go to shit, he was left back behind the window. Again. It was like... It was like... It was like, when you fall in the forest, and there's no one around, do you ever crash, or make a sound? Because, for Brendon, he's falling, but it's like he never made a sound, and h was always going to be on the outside, desperately looking in on everyone else, with their friends, and their happy family lives... He just wanted something like that, so bad.

Brendon decided that he wasn't going to go to first period today, and rather, he was going to go to the computer lab and finish that letter to himself that he would need for his appointment with Dr. Wallace after school today.


	3. Dear Brendon Urie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon writes the letter to himself, but someone else finds it, and it doesn't go like he wanted it to.

_Dear Brendon Urie,_

_Turns out that today wasn't a good day. This isn't going to be a good week, or an amazing year. And here's why. Because... because, why would it be? It's me._

_Oh, I know... because there's Spencer, and all my hope is pinned on Spencer, who I don't even know, and who doesn't even KNOW me. But... but maybe, ya know, if I could just TALK to him, then maybe... maybe... nothing would be different, at all._

_I wish everything was different. I just... I wish I was a part of something. Because, because maybe if I was a part of something, I wouldn't feel the way I always do. I wish that anything that I ever said actually mattered to someone, somewhere. I wish that I didn't freak out on everyone, and I wish that I wasn't such a terrible person to be around._

_I just wish I had someone... someone who would care. But it's me, and why would anyone care about ME?_

_Because, face it... Would anyone even notice if I just... disappeared? Just disappeared... for good._

_Sincerely, your best and dearest friend,_

_Me_

Brendon hit print, rubbing his eyes, which had, for some reason, become slightly damp as he wrote his letter to himself. He wasn't sure why, he didn't care about the letter, or about anything. Or... he wished he didn't care.

"So," A voice startled Brendon out of his own mind, he turned and looked and instantly tried to back away, as he saw Ryan standing there. "What... what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, I... I fell out of a tree," Brendon said, staring intently at the cast on his arm.

"... Fell out of a tree?" Ryan's tone was best described as disbelief.

"Uhm, yeah."

"Well, that's just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." Ryan told him,

Brendon sighed, he didn't need to hear what he thought from someone else. He already thought it. "I know," Brendon mumbled.

"Uh... No one... no one's signed your cast," Ryan pointed out, trying to keep the dying conversation going.

"Yeah." Brendon was trying to do the exact opposite. He just wanted to grab his letter, and get out of the computer lab as fast as he could.

"Well, I'll sign it,"

"You... you don't have to," Brendon moved away a little.

"Do you have a sharpie?" Ryan ignored Brendon's obvious fear.

Brendon, wanting to get it over with as fast as possible, and wanting at least one signature to show his mom he tried, grabbed the sharpie out of his pocket and moved over to Ryan. Ryan decided to sign the cast in as large of handwriting he could. Why? Brendon wasn't sure, but it was already done with.

"... Thanks." Brendon said, looking at the cast that was now half covered with 'RYAN' in big black letters.

"Yeah... well... now we can both pretend that we have friends," Ryan told him, and then remembered the entire reason he had come over to Brendon in the first place.

"Is this yours?" Ryan grabbed the papers that he had picked up from the printer, "I found it on the printer... and it says, Dear Brendon Urie... that's your name."

"No, that's, that's just a stupid assignment I have to write," Brendon tried to grabbed the papers, but something obviously grabbed Ryan's eye, as he pulled it away.

"' _Because there's Spencer'_?" Ryan read aloud, but Brendon didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. "Is this about my brother?"

"No!" Brendon went to grab the papers from Ryan, but Ryan was taller than him, and moved them out of his reach.

"You wrote this, because you knew I would find it." Ryan accused.

"What?"

"Yeah, you saw that I was the only other one in here, and you knew that I would see what you wrote, so you printed this off." Ryan continued.

"Wh-why would I do that?" Brendon was getting more and more confused with Ryan's accusations.

"So I could read some creepy shit you wrote about my brother, and freak out, right? And then you could go around telling the entire school what a freak Ryan Ross is, that's what you wanted, isn't it?!" Ryan yelled, "Fuck you," He left the computer lab quickly, the letters still in hand.

"No, no wait, I really need that back!" Brendon tried to follow him, but he moved too quickly, and there wasn't anything that he could do, except stand there in pure _panic_.

-

"A letter to yourself? What the shit, Brendon?" Dallon laughed as Brendon expressed his concern a few days later. "What does that even mean, Brendon? Is it some kind of sex thing?"

Brendon rolled his eyes, "No, of course it wasn't a sex thing. It was an... assignment."

"Why are you telling _me_ this, Brendon?" Dallon put his notebook back into his backpack.

"I didn't know who else to talk to! You're my only... family friend." Brendon rubbed his neck, and followed Dallon out of the library. "He... he stole the letter three days ago, and he hasn't been at school since."

Dallon laughed, "Well, it seems as if you're a little fucked, B."

"What do you think he's going to do with it?"

"Who knows? Ryan Ross is legitimately bat-shit out of his mind. He threw a _printer_ at Mrs. G in _second_ grade because he wasn't line leader for the day, remember?" Dallon points out, moving expertly through the crowded hallway.

"You... you don't think he's going to show the letter to Spencer, do you?" Brendon asks quietly.

"He's going to ruin your life," Dallon confirms, stopping in front of the doorway of his classroom. "For sure, I mean, if I was in Ryan's shoes and saw something like that, I would."

"Not helping, Dallon!" Brendon complained,

"Sorry, man, just telling you the truth."

The intercom crackled on, "Brendon Urie to the principal's office, Brendon Urie to the principal's office!" It called, before turning off again.

Dallon laughed, "Told you so, good luck." He turned and walked into the classroom, ignoring Brendon's calls to help him.

Brendon was left with no choice but to go to the principal's office and pray that he wouldn't call his mom or suspend him, or even worse, expel him.

However, when Brendon entered the principal's office, there was a couple sitting there, but the principal was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, uh, sorry, is... is Mr. Howard in here?" Brendon wraps his arms around himself, feeling out of place.

"He stepped out for a moment," The woman says, smiling sadly at Brendon.

Brendon was confused as to who this couple were, and why she looked so sympathetic when looking at Brendon. Why were they in here? He was getting in trouble over the letter, right?

"Uh, we wanted to speak with you alone," The man said, as the woman grabbed something out of her purse. "You should probably take a seat," He gestured to the empty chair.

Brendon sat down on the chair as little as possible, so if anything went wrong, he could try and make a quick getaway. He didn't know who these people were, and talking to strangers in situations like this always made his anxiety sky rocket, even if he was on his medication.

"We're... we're Ryan's parents," The man tells him, and Brendon's stomach drops to the floor.

He _knew_ Ryan was going to show the letter to people, but he didn't expect him to show it to his parents. They were probably going to file a restraining order, and tell him that he was never going to be able to talk to Spencer ever again. Hell, it's not like Spencer would ever want to talk to him again after reading what Brendon wrote about him.

If he even swung that way...

Ryan's mom leans over and hands him a paper, which he was _positive_ was the restraining order, "Uh, he... Ryan must've wanted you to have this." She says.

Brendon looks at it, and it was his letter to himself. "Uh... we had never... never heard your name before. Ryan had never mentioned you, but based off this, you two were obviously close friends."

"He gave this to you?" Brendon asks, shocked that they thought that Ryan had written this.

Brendon had read some of Ryan's writing before, in English when they had to share things aloud. He had to admit that writing was something that Ryan was talented at. His parent's must have never read his writing before, otherwise they would _know_ that this wasn't Ryan.

"We... we didn't think Ryan had any friends... but then we found this letter, and we must've been wrong." Ryan's dad continues. "I mean, it's right there. It says, Dear Brendon Urie, he wrote it to you. He wanted you to have it."

"This is what he wanted to share with you," Ryan's mom adds.

Brendon was getting more and more confused as the conversation proceeded. What did they mean that this is what Ryan wanted to share with him? Why weren't they yelling at him? Telling him how terrible of a person he was?

"His last words," Ryan's father concludes.

And suddenly Brendon felt like his life was over, "Last words? What do you mean?"

"Ryan... he committed suicide..." Ryan's dad tells him.

"He what?"

"This was all he had with him, in his pocket." Ryan's dad hands his wife a tissue. "He was trying to explain... why... uh, why he... ' _I wish everything was different... I wish I was a part of something'_."

"George, please stop it!" Ryan's mother says hysterically.

"But that doesn't explain... this is not, Ryan didn't write this." Brendon tells them.

"What do you mean?" Ryan's mother asks desperately.

"I'm sorry, I have to, I have to go. He didn't write this." Brendon stands up, grabbing the bag, tears threating to fall down his face.

"What does he mean?" Ryan's mom asks George.

"He's obviously in shock!" George tells her.

"No, no, I'm not in—I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Wait," His mother says, "Please, this is all we have."

"No, I'm sorry," Brendon says, trying to hand the paper back.

"This is all we have left of Ryan!" She says, starting to cry.

"Cynthia!" George exclaims, trying to calm her down.

"You, you should have this," Brendon gives the letter back to her.

Cynthia turns to Brendon and gasps, seeing his cast. "George... look! Look, look at his cast." Both George and Brendon look at his cast, the 'RYAN' clearly visible. And Brendon knew there was no way he was going to be able to get out of this. Not with the letter addressed to him, not with Ryan's name on his cast... "His best and most dearest friend."

And what was Brendon supposed to do? Tell them that he was just a lonely, sad, messed up teenager who had to write this letter to himself? Ruin any chance that he had of getting to actually know Spencer? Was he supposed to come to terms that Ryan... that Ryan killed himself because of what _he_ wrote... He couldn't do that to the family that was so clearly falling apart... So, he did the only thing he could do, and he lied.


	4. For Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon visits with Ryan's family, and things do not go like Dallon said they would.

"Holy shit!" Dallon exclaimed after school as Brendon tried to explain the situation he was in.

"I... I couldn't tell them the truth..."

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." Dallon repeated.

"They, they invited me to dinner. They want to know more about Ryan and my friendship. What am I supposed to do? I don't actually know anything about Ryan. What if I say something that totally contradicts who Ryan was? They're going to find out, and I've already lied, and it's going to turn to shit!" Brendon was pacing back and forth in front of the bench where Dallon was sitting, outside of the school building. Brendon was sure he was going to have to walk home, seeing as his mom had been cancelling everything lately so that she could be working more hours.

The news of Ryan had spread quickly online and through the school. Even Jon Walker was posting about it.

'So sad to hear the news about @RyanRoss. I wouldn't say we were friends or anything, we were more like acquaintances. We were lab partners in chemistry, and we had English together in the 10th grade. Three days ago, Ryan Ross was here, and now... he's gone. If Ryan meant something to you, please repost this. Or, even private message me if you just want to talk. At times like these, we could all use a friend.'

"They want me to come over to their house for dinner, oh my God, Dallon you have to help me!"

"Do you want to listen to me, or do you want to have another meltdown like you did last year in English when you had to give a speech, but just stood there looking at your notecards going 'um, um, um' for five minutes?" Dallon needed to be sure that Brendon was actually going to listen to him, before he gave any of his A+ advice.

"So am I just supposed to keep lying?"

"I didn't say lie!" Dallon defends himself, "When you go over to their house, all you have to do is nod and confirm. Don't contradict, and whatever you do, don't make shit up. It's literally fool-proof. Nothing I tell my parents is true, and they have no idea."

"They... they were just so sad, and kept looking at me as if I had all the answers about their son and his death." Brendon sits down next to Dallon, and put his head on his hands.

"Well, then, Brendon, don't tell them the truth. That would tear them apart even more." A car pulls up, and Dallon stands up, "Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Dallon was already gone before he could hear Brendon's reply.

-

Sitting at a dinner table in someone else's house, when they think that you and their son were best friends, is easily the most awkward thing, Brendon decided.

Spencer was sitting at one end of the table, looking mad, but not talking to anyone. George was at the other end, looking at his phone, waiting for Cynthia to bring out dinner. It was tense, and very different from dinner at Brendon's own house. Different, meaning that there were people at home during dinner, and they ate at the table, like a family. Or as much like a family as they could in a situation like this.

"Did Ryan tell you about the Harris'?" Cynthia asks, setting down chicken on the table, "They brought this over for us."

Brendon looks up, and silently nods. "Our families would go skiing together." She adds, hoping that maybe Brendon would open up a little more.

"Yeah, he... he loved skiing." Brendon offer.

Spencer turns toward him, confusion on his face, "Ryan hated skiing."

"Yes! He loved to talk about how much he hated skiing, that's what I meant." Brendon says quickly, already breaking the rules that Dallon gave him to make the night go smoothly.

"Uh, did... did you guys hang out a lot?" George asked.

"Yes," Brendon pushed around the food on his plate.

"Where?" Spencer doesn't remember Ryan ever hanging out with another human being at their house.

"Mostly... mostly at my house. Sometimes here, if... if no one was home." He offers, mentally punching himself for every lie he was telling. Dallon would physically punch him if he could hear all the bullshit he was spewing. "We mainly... emailed because... because he didn't always want to hang out in person."

"We... looked through his email, there weren't any emails to you." Cynthia says, confused.

"No, of course not, because... because..." Wow, Dallon was going to kill him, most definitely, "It was on a secret account, because... because he didn't really want anyone to know that we were friends..."

"He knew that you were reading his emails, George!" Cynthia accuses.

"Someone needed to make sure he was okay!" George replies sharply.

"That's weird, because the only time I ever saw you and Ryan together... Ever, was when he pushed you into the lockers last week." Spencer pushes his own food around his plate, finally looking at Brendon.

"What?!" Cynthia exclaimed.

"I tripped!" Brendon tries to cover, but Spencer wasn't having any of it.

"I was there! I saw the whole thing, Brendon, he pushed you. Hard. Why are you lying?" Spencer asks, slumping back in his seat.

"I-I remember now, you see... because... because, he didn't want me to talk to him at school... and I did... and he didn't like that. So... he shoved me."

"Why didn't he want to talk to you at school?" George asks.

"He thought I was kind of a... a..." Brendon looks down at his plate, picking at his cast again.

"A nerd?" Spencer offers.

"Spencer!"

"Uh, I was gonna say loser actually, but, but nerd works too." Brendon replies, trying to look anywhere but at the three people sitting around him.

"I'm sorry... that wasn't very nice," Cynthia apologizes.

"Well, that makes perfect sense considering that Ryan wasn't very nice." Spencer crosses his arms, his blue eyes piercing Brendon, as if he knew that he was lying.

"Ryan was just... just a complicated person, Spencer, and you know this." Cynthia scolds.

"No, Ryan was a bad person, there's a different, Mom. Don't pretend like he wasn't."

"You refuse to see anything good about Ryan! He's dead Spencer, dead." His mother says, standing up and rubbing her forehead.

"Because there weren't any good things! What was good about him, Mom? What?" Spencer says exasperated that no one was seeing anything from his perspective here.

"I don't want to have this conversation." Cynthia says, starting to leave the room, causing Spencer to roll his eyes, and drop he napkin onto his plate.

"I remember a lot of good things about Ryan!" Brendon exclaims, trying to put an end to the tension in the room.

Everyone turns to him, Spencer crossing his arms again, "Like what?" He demands.

"There... there was one day... one day recently that Ryan and I spent together... that, that was good! That's what I keep thinking about, that day at the..." Brendon looks around desperately, spotting the bowl of apples on the table, "the apple... apple place."

"He took you to the orchard?" Cynthia asks, shocked.

"Uh, yes, yes he did. He took me to the orchard. It was the end of May... or early June, that this... picture perfect afternoon happened." He explains. "We... we drove on all those winding country roads, and we stopped for ice cream, and then we were there..."

Spencer didn't look convinced, but Cynthia was smiling so brightly at him, and George looked so intent on the story, that Brendon didn't have much of a choice but to sell it as well as he could. "There was an open field that was framed with trees. We sat there, and just talked and took in the view. We quoted songs by our favorite bands, told jokes that no one understood, except for us two." Cynthia smiled even bigger, sitting down again.

"All we saw was sky for forever, we let the world pass us by, for forever. It felt like we could have gone on forever that way, two friends on a perfect day. Ya know?"

"I had completely forgotten about that place," George says thoughtfully.

"We... went on a walk, and we talked a while about what we would do when we graduated and left this town. Like bike, or write a book, or learn to sail! There wasn't anything we couldn't talk about. Oh! Like bo—girls we wish would notice us, but never do." He says, glancing at Spencer before quickly looking away. "He told me that there wasn't anywhere else he would rather be, and I said 'me too!'. It was like we would be happy for forever, like the sun would be bright for forever."

Cynthia was crying at this point, "And, and then he started running through the orchard, and told me to follow him. He was running to the tallest tree, and I followed him. We started climbing, one foot after another, one branch then another. I climbed until the entire sun shined on my face. But then... I felt the branch give way. I'm on the ground, and my arm goes numb... I looked around, and he's come to get me. And everything was okay."

Cynthia grabbed a napkin, wiping her face, smiling sadly at Brendon, "It was us for forever... happily." Brendon finishes, turning toward the family.

And the look on their faces convinced him that they totally believed his story. And it made it hurt that much more to know it wasn't true.

"Thank you, Brendon, thank you," Cynthia says, hugging him, and crying.

He just... he wanted it to be true.


	5. Sincerely, Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon helps Brendon fake emails, like the good friend he is.
> 
> Except his idea of what should be in the emails is different than Brendon's.

Brendon told Dallon the story the next day during lunch, in the library. "You do realize that his parents think you guys were dating, right?" Dallon says, walking through the shelves, looking for some type of book for a project.

"What? Why would they think that?!" Brendon exclaims, standing up from his crouching position, looking at the books on the bottom shelf.

"You said you two were best friends, but he wouldn't let you talk to him at school, and when you did, he pushed you. That just screams secret gay lovers." Dallon tells him.

"Oh my God, I think I'm going to be sick. I didn't like Ryan! I liked his brother..." Brendon says, shaking his head, and running his fingers through his hair.

"This wouldn't have happened, Brendon, if you had _listened_ to me! Just nod and confirm. Did you do that? _No_." Dallon grabbed a book from the shelf, "You did this to yourself, buddy."

"I got nervous and I started talking, and once I started, I couldn't stop!" Brendon exclaims.

"Okay, fine, well, what else did you completely fuck up?" Dallon asks, walking over to one of the tables in the library, and pulling out a notebook before sitting down.

"I... I told them we wrote emails... on a secret email account..."

"Right! Sure, one of those _secret_ email accounts! For sending pictures of your _penises_ to each other! God, Brendon, this couldn't sound _less_ gay if you tried!" Dallon says, laughing hysterically.

"Anywayyyy. I said he had the secret email account, and that's how we talked most of the time. But... they want to see the emails. What am I going to do?" Brendon says, walking in circles around the table.

"Good thing I can do emails, then. I can backdate them, and we can go all bat shit with the things you guys would talk about." Dallon shrugs, opening the book to a random page.

"You would do that?" Brendon sits down across from Dallon at the table.

"For two grand," Dallon looks at Brendon.

"Two thousand dollars?"

"Five hundred?" Dallon bargains.

"I can give you twenty?" Brendon offers.

"Fine, but you're a dick," Dallon says, offering his hand for Brendon to shake, "Come over to my house after school tomorrow and I'll help you out."

"Thanks, again, Dallon. I owe you one!" Brendon says, standing up and leaving the library.

"Yeah you do," Dallon mutters, turning back to the open book and his project that he needed to get done.

-

After school that day, Brendon was sitting in his room, staring at his computer screen, trying to come up with some ideas about what him and Ryan would talk about over email, when he mom came in. "Hey, you!" She says, grinning, and putting her bag down on his floor.

"I have very exciting news! I found these college essay scholarships online! Have you ever heard of these?" She asks, handing a bunch of papers to Brendon and sitting on his bed.

"Yeah, I think so," He glances at the first paper on the stack.

"There's so many, I spent my whole lunch break looking these up! Look this one is 3,000 dollars and this one is 5,000! College is going to be amazing, because how many chances does someone get to just start all over? You have so many things ahead of you!" She says handing him more papers. "The only people who actually like high school are cheerleaders and football players, right?"

Brendon was silent, and nodded, "I just thought these were a good idea."

"Yeah for sure," Brendon confirms.

"You've always been a wonderful writer, B." She sets the rest of the papers on his bedside table. "And unless your step mother has a trust fund for you that I don't know about, we're gonna need all the help we can get with college!"

Brendon just nods, smiling again at her. The room fell silent, before his mom stands up turning to him. "So, hey, I got an email from your school today... about someone named Ryan Ross? He... he killed himself. Did you know him?" She asks.

"No, not really..." Brendon replies, picking at his cast, like he always does when he gets nervous, now.

"You know... that... if you ever want to talk about anything, even though it must feel like I'm always working, you... you can talk to me okay?" She says, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely." Brendon nods, looking at her quickly before looking away.

Brendon's mom opens her mouth to say something else, before she stops. "It... it says Ryan on your cast."

"Oh! No, that's, that's a different Ryan." He tells her, "I promise."

"Oh, okay, okay, I got worried for a second." She laughs at herself, "Hey, I know! Next Tuesday, I'll call in sick, and we'll have Taco Tuesday again! We can start looking at those scholarships and brainstorm some ideas!"

"That'd be great," Brendon says, smiling.

"Great! Do you need any refills?" She grabs his pill bottle off the table.

"No, not yet." He tells her.

"Okay," She says, before looking at the time, "Shit, I'm going to be late. I love you Bren!" She grabs her bag and leaves the room.

"Love you too, Mom." He calls after her.

-

Brendon was sitting next to Dallon at the table in his dining room. He didn't have any siblings, and neither of his parents would be home until later, so he had plenty of time to create the email account and write some fake emails with Brendon.

"Alright," He says, popping his fingers, "Here we go!"

_Dear Brendon Urie,_

_We've been out of touch for way too long. Life has been crazy, and it sucks that we don't talk that much. But, I should tell you that I think of you every night, I rub my nipples and start moaning with delight._

"Why would you write that?!" Brendon pushes Dallon out of the chair.

Dallon laughs from the floor, "I'm just trying to tell the truth!"

"You know what? _I'm_ going to write the emails," Brendon says, taking Dallon's spot in front of the laptop.

"You need to calm yourself," Dallon sits up.

"These emails have to be perfect. I have to convince them that we were actually friends, you know?"

"There's nothing untruthful about what I'm writing!" Dallon complains.

"I'm erasing it, Dal."

Dallon sighs, but sits up a little further to read the email over Brendon's shoulder.

_I gotta tell you, life without you as been hard._

"Hard?" Dallon laughs.

_Has been bad._

"Bad?"

_Has been rough._

"Kinky!" Dallon grins.

_And I miss talking about life, and other stuff._

"Very specific."

"Shut up!"

_I like my parents._

"Who even _says_ that?"

_I love my parents, but each day's another fight. If I stop smoking drugs, then everything might be alright._

" _Smoking drugs_?!" Dallon asks in disbelief.

Brendon shoves the laptop in his direction, "Just, just fix it!"

"This doesn't even sound like Ryan, B!" Dallon laughs, standing up and sitting in a chair.

"I just want to prove that I was like... a good friend, and stuff..."

"Oh my god," Dallon rolls his eyes but turns back to the email.

_If I stop smoking crack,_

" _Crack?!_ " Brendon slaps Dallon's arm

_If I stop smoking pot, then everything might be alright. I'll take your advice... I'll try to be more... nice, I'll turn it around, wait and see!_

_Cause all that this takes is a little reinvention! It's easy to change if you just give it your attention. All you have to do, is just believe that you can be who you wanna be._

_Sincerely,_

_Me_

Dallon leans back in the chair, "Are we done yet?"

"I can't just give them one email, Dal!" Brendon says, putting his head on the table.

Dallon looks at him, "Bren, please stop hyperventilating.

"I'm not!" Brendon wasn't, okay? Just... sometimes when his anxiety acted up he breathed a little heavier than normal.

"You're having a considerable difficult time breathing," Dallon points out.

"I'm not hyp-"

"Do you need a paper bag?" He jokes.

Brendon rolls his eyes, grabbing the laptop from him. "Let me write my reply, please."

_Dear Ryan Ross,_

_I also miss our talks. You should try and stop doing drugs. Maybe take deep breaths, and go on walks?_

"No," Dallon tells him.

_I'm sending pictures of the most amazing trees,_

"No!"

_You'll be amazed by all my... forest expertise._

"Absolutely _not_!"

_Dude, I'm proud of you, just keep pushing through! You're turning around, I can tell. All it'll take is a little reinvention, I know I'll see it if you give it your attention. All you have to do, is just believe in yourself._

_Sincerely,_

_Me_

Brendon smiles satisfied, and hands the laptop back to Dallon again.

_Dear Brendon Urie,_

_My sister's hot!_

"Dude, what the fuck?" Brendon says trying to take the computer away.

"My bad!"

_Thanks for every email you send._

_Dear Ryan Ross,_

_I'm just glad to be your friend! Our friendship goes beyond the average bond, but not because we're gay!_

_Dear Brendon Urie,_

_Not because we're gay, lol (But I might be!)_

_Dear Ryan Ross,_

_We're close, but not that way. The only man I've ever loved is my Dad. (and your brother.)_

"You can't write that, Dallon! His parents are going to see this!" Brendon complains.

"Always gotta rain on my parade dude. They're going to find out one day."

_But anyways, you're getting better every day! I knew that it would just take a little focus and you could become who you wanted to be._

_Sincerely, miss you dearly, Sincerely,_

_Me_

"There," Brendon says, closing the laptop. "That's what I needed. These are great."

"You're welcome," Dallon says, irritably. He could tell that Brendon wasn't exactly super appreciative of what he had done, but he figured that was his own deal, and Brendon would eventually come to realize that he had done something huge for him. Brendon was just kinda in his own little world with this situation at hand.

"Thanks, again, I have to go over and show them some of these emails now, I'll talk to you later." Brendon grabs his bag, and a few of the printed off emails, and goes to the door.

"See ya later," Dallon says, standing up too, but Brendon was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey this is the funniest song I've heard in a long fucking time so you should listen to it
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOYAA13Bm9M


	6. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer speculates on how he's supposed to miss Ryan when the Ryan everyone is telling him existed isn't the one he remembers.

"These are just some of the emails," Brendon says, handing them to Cynthia, who was sitting next to him on her couch. "There's more, but we emailed all the time. I can print more off."

"It's so weird reading these..." Cynthia tells him, "They sound so different from the Ryan we knew."

"I'm sorry," Brendon says, looking at his lap, "Maybe I shouldn't have brought them."

"No, no! It's just... gosh, I don't remember the last time I heard him laugh. You two..."

"Yeah, yeah, no, I totally understand. And we, we laughed all the time!" Brendon looks up as Cynthia turns to him.

"There are more? You emailed more, right?" She asks, and Brendon nods, "We'd love to see them."

She turns to George, "We'd love to see everything, wouldn't we?" She asks tersely.

She gets a quiet 'mm-hm' in response, and sighs. She turns around when she hears Spencer. "Why are you here?" He asks, crossing his arms.

"Oh, Spencer! Look! Brendon brought us emails from your brother!" Cynthia walks over, handing him a paper, but Spencer doesn't look at it.

"How was your first day back?" George asks.

"Perfect. Now, everyone just wants to be my new best bud." Spencer says, throwing his bag on the ground next to the couch. "I'm the dead kid's brother, if you didn't know."

"I should probably go," Brendon says, standing up from the couch.

"Oh, are you sure? Are you not going to stay for dinner?" Cynthia asks, walking back over to him.

"No... I... I hadn't planned on it," His tone apologetic.

"Another night, then, yes?" She asks.

Brendon nods before exiting the house. He could feel the tension between the two parents, and Spencer. He did not want to be there when it all went to hell, he just wanted to go home, right now. The emails were causing him a lot of stress. Besides, Cynthia wanted to see more of them. He was going to have to make their friendship seem deeper and more sincere if he was going to be able to come up with enough ideas to write more emails.

The issue was that every letter he wrote made the fake friendship between Ryan and him feel more real. Which made him ever more sad, because that was all he wanted in the first place. Just a friend, who would care about him and what he said. And yet, the only time he had that was with someone who didn't even like him. Someone who was dead.

Back in the house, Cynthia was trying to have a conversation with her son, "So... how was band?" She asks. "Bet they're happy to have their drummer back."

"You don't have to do this," Spencer says, turning to walk up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Do what?" Cynthia demands, stopping Spencer from leaving.

"Just because Ryan isn't here, pounding on my door, and screaming that he wants to kill me _for no reason,_ doesn't mean we're the fucking Brady Bunch. It doesn't change the fact that I'm not _really_ your son, and that your real son is _dead."_

"We're all grieving, Spencer!" Cynthia desperately tries to get Spencer to understand the situation she was in, too.

She puts some letters down on the couch, "I know you miss your brother... you can read these, when you're ready."

George walks back into the house, from where he had shown Brendon out, but doesn't talk to either one of them before leaving. Cynthia leaves the room, as well, leaving Spencer to debate on whether or not he even wanted to read the letters his brother wrote to Brendon.

He just didn't understand why he was expected to pretend, pretend to remember Ryan through someone else's experiences with him. What Brendon experience with Ryan was _not_ what he experienced. And why should he be expected to pretend that it was? That that was the truth?

Everyone kept saying that Ryan was this perfect son, this wonderful friend... But he wasn't. He was abusive toward Spencer, always hating him for coming in and ruining his perfect 'only child' lifestyle. It wasn't Spencer's fault, obviously, but Ryan could never move past any of it.

Spencer could stay in his room, pretending to cry over Ryan's death. He could give in to all the gloom around him, staying blue for a longer period of time. But what for? Why should he pretend to have a heavy heart? Why should he break into a million pieces? Why should he give Ryan the satisfaction of him falling apart over Ryan? Why should he play the part of the grieving sibling, and lie about how he was feeling? Why should he say the he missed him, and this his world is darker without him here?

But he couldn't. He would sing no requiem over Ryan tonight.

George stood in Ryan's bedroom, Cynthia behind him. "I'm going to bed," He tells her.

"You can't stand in this room for more than five minutes," She says hysterically.

"I'm exhausted, please."

"You have to deal with this!" She claims.

"Not tonight, Cynthia, please." He begs her.

She sighs, handing him one of the emails, "Just... just read this."

He takes the email, promising to keep the light on, before leaving. He couldn't help feeling upset over everything. He knew that whatever was going on in Ryan's life caused him to take his own life, but George couldn't help feeling like he gave Ryan everything, just to have him throw it away. He couldn't help feeling like Ryan left the broken family behind him, for someone else to pick up and deal with.

He knew he was being selfish for thinking this way, but it felt as if everything was wasted. He had nothing left to say, and he would sing no requiem about Ryan tonight, either.

Cynthia stood in the empty bedroom, feeling like she could hear his voice again, feel him there. In the words of the email, she finally found who she remembered Ryan to be. Now that she knew that he was still there, still with her, she could finally stop singing requiem, too.

Spencer was still staring at the email in his hands, still lost as to why he should say he would keep Ryan with him. Because in the end, in all the stories, when the villain falls, the kingdom doesn't fall too. No one lights a candle to remember them, no one talks about how amazing they were, how they'll be missed. No one grieves, no one mourns at all. No one could tell him that he didn't have it right, he _knew_ he was right.

He was so _sick_ of people telling him that it wasn't black and white. That there was a grey area where Ryan was good to him. Because once he was adopted, all he put him through... no one could tell him that it wasn't true, that Ryan wasn't the monster that he knew. He wouldn't grieve any longer. He couldn't lie. He couldn't sing requiem for Ryan.

He just couldn't.

 

-

Brendon was trying to do his homework when an instant message from Jon Walker popped up on his screen.

_Hey, Brendon, it's Jon. How are you? How is everything?_

Brendon sighed, he really did not want to talk to Jon right now, but he knew deep inside, that Jon usually meant well.

_**Fine, thanks.** _

_Thank God, Dallon's been telling everyone at school about you and Ryan. How close you two were. Everyone's talking about it, and how brave you've been this week._

_**They are?** _

_Anyone else in your situation would be FALLING apart. Ian was crying so hard at lunch yesterday, he pulled a muscle in his FACE. He had to go to the hospital._

_**Isn't Ian new this year? He didn't even KNOW Ryan.** _

_That's why he was crying. Because he'll never get the chance, now._

_Ryan's really bringing the school together, you know! It's incredible! People who have never talked to me before, want to have conversations with me, because they know how much Ryan meant to me. It's empowering. I actually started a blog about him! Like a memorial thing, you know?_

_**Were you friends with Ryan, too?** _

_Acquaintances. But, CLOSE acquaintances. Can I tell you something? I think I always knew you guys were friends. You did a good job at hiding it, but I could just tell, I have a third eye for that kind of thing._

"Who are you talking to?" His mother's voice broke him out of the conversation, causing him to jump and close the computer.

"Dallon, it was just, Dallon." Brendon says, taking a deep breath.

"Seems like you and Dallon are spending a lot more time together! That's great, honey!" She says, happily. "I'm proud of you, putting yourself out there like this!"

"Thanks," He says, trying to shrug her arms off of his shoulders.

"Well, I'm headed off to work, but I left money on the counter like I always do. Please try and eat something tonight, B."

"Wait, I thought we were doing tacos tonight," His mom pulls the keys out of her purse before stopping. "Looking at the essays,"

"Shit! I totally forgot!"

"That's okay, really," He gives her what he was hoping was a convincing smile.

"Hey, I have an idea! You can look at the essays without me, and then if you have any ideas you can email me! It's better that way, right? You can really take your time and think about them."

"Yeah, definitely." He says, leaning down and putting his laptop in his bag.

"We can do tacos another night, Bren." Realizing how uninterested in the conversation Brendon was, and feeling worse now.

"Okay, it's fine, I'll make dinner for myself," He tells her, leaving the room.


	7. If I Could Tell Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon tells Spencer how he feels. Sort of. Through Ryan.
> 
> Spencer doesn't take it well.

He had been invited over to Spencer's house for dinner that night, and was honestly fine with his mom forgetting about tacos. They could tacos another night, and he knew that his mom needed the extra hours, anyways.

He was standing in Ryan's room, looking at the things on his bookshelf. "What are you doing in here?" Spencer asks, making him jump.

"I... I was just waiting," He quickly replies, stepping away from the bookshelf.

"Don't your parents get upset that you're always over _here_ and not at your own house?" Spencer demands, crossing his arms like he always did, looking at Brendon with those blue eyes that seemed to see into his soul.

"I'm not here _all_ the time," Brendon defends, starting toward the door of the bedroom.

"It's two nights in a row, now."

"I mean... it's just me and my mom, and my mom's always working extra hours, and if she's not working she has classes on campus. She's not home much, anyway." Brendon tells Spencer, awkwardly rubbing his arm.

"Class for what?"

"Legal stuff," Brendon answers, not really sure.

"And your Dad?"

"My Dad... my dad lives in Colorado... He left when I was seven, so he doesn't really mind. And your parents are really great!"

Spencer rolls his eyes, sitting on the bed, "My parents hate each other, they're constantly fighting, and my Dad is in total denial. He didn't even cry at Ryan's funeral." He tells Brendon.

"Your mom, she said she was making gluten free lasagna for dinner! That sounds really..." He desperately tries to change the subject.

"Inedible?" Spencer offers.

Brendon sits next to him on the bed, tentatively. "At least your mom cooks, we normally just eat pizza most nights."

Spencer turns to him, smiling, "At least you're allowed to eat pizza."

"You're not allowed to eat pizza?"

"I guess I could now, but my mom was Buddhist last year, so we were on a strict no-animal diet." Spencer shrugs.

"She was Buddhist last year, but not this year?"

"Yeah, she goes through... phases, I guess. For a while, Pilates, and hot yoga, and then The Secret, then Buddhism, and now free-range omnivores or whatever,"

"I mean, it's cool that she's into so much different stuff!" Brendon smiles.

"She's not, she's just rich and bored. And I guess that's what happens when you're rich and bored," Spencer sighs, not making eye contact with Brendon anymore.

"Well, my mom... she always says it's better to be rich than poor,"

"Well, your mom's probably never been rich then," Spencer laughs.

Brendon laughs a little too, "Yeah, and you've probably never been poor."

Brendon looks at the shocked look on Spencer's face and realizes what he had just said, "Oh my god, I can't believe I just said that, I am _so_ sorry! That was so rude,"

"Wow, I didn't know you were capable of saying something rude like that!" Spencer grins, bumping Brendon with his arm.

"I don't say things that aren't nice, I swear, I don't even _think_ those things," Brendon apologizes. "I'm very sorry."

Spencer dead pans, "I was impressed, you're ruining it."

Brendon blushes, and stops, "Oh, sorry."

"You really don't have to keep saying that, you know," Spencer tells him.

Brendon falls silent, bouncing a little from where he was sitting, "You want to say it again don't you?"

"Very much so, yes," Brendon says, quickly.

"You're pretty odd, Bren," He tells him.

"I know," Brendon croaks, blushing a little again, and going to stand up.

"Hey, uh, why did he say that... in his note?" Spencer asks.

"Say what?"

"Because there's Spencer, because all my hope is pinned on Spencer who doesn't even know me, and I don't know him. Why would he say that? What does that mean? It's been... it's been keeping me up at night," Spencer says quietly.

"Uhm, I... maybe... I mean, I don't know if this is like, definitely it, but he always thought that maybe if you guys were like... closer..."

"We weren't close, at all." Spencer says, leaning against the headboard.

"Yeah, yeah, exactly. He would always say, that he wanted to be..."

"You... you and Ryan would talk about me?" Spencer sits up, staring at Brendon intently, like he had all the answers to Spencer's problems.

"Sometimes, if he like, if he brought it up. I mean, _I_ would never bring it up, because that would be weird... but he thought that you were awesome."

"Ryan thought I was awesome? My brother?"

"Definitely." Brendon nods firmly, deciding that it was already out in the open, and he would just have to stick to it, like all the other lies he'd been telling.

"How?"

"Well... he said... that you had this smile that was subtle, but real, when you got really happy..." Brendon offers, "He said, you never knew how often people would tell him that they really... really liked your smile."

Everything that Brendon was saying wasn't from Ryan of course... it was everything that Brendon wish that HE could tell Spencer. Spencer was smiling at Brendon, that smile that he was talking about, making Brendon's heart beat faster, and palms get sweaty, like he hated so much.

"He knew whenever you got bored, you scribble stars onto the cuffs on your jeans. And he noticed that you still filled out those quizzes on those teen magazine websites when you got really bored." Spencer blushed, he never realized that anyone noticed that that was something he did! That was really embarrassing, actually.

"But, he kept all of that to himself, he kept it all unsaid. He wanted to, he couldn't talk to you, he couldn't find the way. But he'd tell me, if I could tell him everything I see, what he meant to me, but we're a million worlds apart... and I don't know how I would start, if I could tell him."

Tears were filling Spencer's eyes, and he tried to not let that show to Brendon, "Did he say anything else?"

"About you?"

Spencer stands up quickly, "No, never mind, that was stupid, I don't even care."

"No! He just said," Brendon grabbed his wrist, "He said a lot, and I'm trying to think of the best ones."

Spencer turned and waited for Brendon to continue. "He thought you looked really pretty—or _it looked pretty_ cool when you died your hair blue that one time, he never knew how you could feel confident enough to do something."

"He did?" Spencer asks, smiling, "Really?"

"And he wondered how you learned to perform on stage, like no one was even watching you at all." Brendon continues, deciding that this was the time to tell him everything _he_ felt, because he could phrase it all as if it was _Ryan_. "But he kept that all to himself, because he just didn't know how to tell you, because he was sure that you thought he hated you. But he would say that you were a million worlds apart, and he didn't even know how he would really start."

Brendon moved a little closer to Spencer, "He would say, what do you do when there's this great divide?"

"He just seemed so far away," Spencer tells him.

"Well, what do you do when the distance is too wide? He just didn't know how to tell you that he loved you, that he was _glad_ that his parents adopted you, and that he was gla he had a brother."

"Really?"

"He just didn't know how to tell you I love you," Brendon said, staring into Spencer's blue eyes, feeling as if _Brendon_ just told Spencer that he loved him.

He forgot about the entire situation he was in, he forgot about Ryan, about the lie, about _everything_ , and leaned in. And he kissed him. He kissed Spencer.

Spencer pulled away after a moment, "What are you doing?!" He exclaimed, standing up, and moving across the room.

"Oh my god, I didn't mean to do that! I am _so_ sorry, you're probably not even—"

"Dinner's ready!" Cynthia called from downstairs, and Spencer left the room, glancing back at Brendon once.

Brendon was humiliated. That was it, his life was over. Spencer was never going to talk to him again, he ruined _everything_.

Brendon went and told Cynthia that he didn't feel well and was going to head home, before walking the short distance to his house as quickly as possible. When he got home, he opened his laptop to send a message to Dallon, the only person he felt he could tell about this situation.

_You WHAT?_

_**IT JUST HAPPENED OKAY** _

_I cannot BELIEVE you kissed Spencer Smith on his dead brother's bed!_

_Hey asshole, are you going to say anything?_

_**Is that button you were wearing... did it have Connor's face on it?** _

_I'm selling them at lunch tomorrow!_

_**You're making money off of this?!** _

_I'm not the only one! Haven't you seen the wristbands with Ryan's initials on them that Pete's been selling to everyone? Or the t-shirts Brent's mom made?_

_**What am I supposed to do about Spencer?** _

_Bro, after last night, you can NEVER go back to their house again! Besides, in a few days, the whole Ryan thing, it'll be completely blown over._

_**Wait, what about the whole wristband and t-shirt thing you just mentioned?** _

_Exactly, this entire thing is at it's peak. I have to move these buttons fast before everyone gets over the whole Ryan Ross memorabilia thing. Pretty soon, there will be something else to raise money for, and Ryan will be that dead kid no one remembers._

_**You don't know that for sure.** _

_Hey, at least it was fun while it lasted, B! You got to spend some time with Spencer and your fake rich family._

_**That's not why I was doing this! I just wanted to help them.** _

_Regardless, dude, it's over. A week from now, everyone will have forgotten about Ryan._

Brendon closed his laptop, not wanting to think about any of this anymore. He was just going to have to stop going over to Spencer's house, look at those essays, and move on. Dallon was right, even if he didn't want to believe it.


	8. Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon tries to come up with a way to keep Ryan's memory alive. With the help of Ryan.

Sure enough, a week later, he got a message from none other than Jon Walker.

_Everyone has forgotten about Ryan! A week ago, everyone was wearing wristband and t-shirts, people were talking to people they had never talked to before, but now it's all over. You were his best friend, Bren, you can't let this happen!_

_**I know but** _

_Maybe we could ask Spencer to do something._

_Oh, maybe you guys could do something together!_

_**Spencer?** _

_Yeah, they were siblings, he is the perfect person to get people interested again!_

_**It's just that... I don't know if that's the best way to get people interested again.** _

_I can guarantee you, that if you don't do something no one will remember him. Is that what you want?_

_**I'm just trying to** _

_J. Walker has gone offline._

"What am I supposed to do?" Brendon asked himself, falling onto his back on his bed.

And it was like Ryan was _there_ , somehow. In his head, or something, _talking_ to him. Brendon was already so stressed out, the for some strange reason it didn't faze him.

"Why don't you just talk to Spencer?" The mind-Ryan asked.

Brendon shook his head, covering his face with his hands, "I can't talk to him, I already ruined everything, any chance I had with Spencer."

"Says who? _Dallon_? Why were you even talking to Dallon about this in the first place?"

Brendon was confused, "Well, who else am I supposed to talk to?"

"You can talk to me!"

Brendon tried to shake the mind-Ryan away. He wasn't real, and the fact that he was imagining him up, so he had someone else to talk to about the situation made his life even sadder. The only reason Ryan was even showing up like this was because Brendon so desperately wanted the friendship he created in his mind to be real. This was the way his mind was coping with it. That's all. "Unless you have other options." Mind-Ryan told him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I just... I don't know what to do,"

"Look," Ryan walked over to where Brendon was laying down, "Spencer, my parents? They _need_ you, okay? _You_ are the only person who can make sure that everybody doesn't just forget about me... Oh right, they already _did_."

"After two whole weeks," Brendon muttered.

"And once they've forgotten about me, what do you think happens to _you_ , Brendon? No one cares about people like us!"

"People like us?" Brendon sits up, turning toward mind-Ryan.

"Ryan Ross? The kid who threw a printer at Mrs. G in the second grade? Or, Brendon Urie. The kid who stood outside of the jazz band concert trying to talk to Spencer Smith, but his hands were too sweaty... You know, people like _that_. Look, guys like you and me, we're just the losers, who just keep desperately waiting to be seen." Mind-Ryan sits down next to Brendon. "Right?"

Brendon turned away, "I mean, no one seems to care," Ryan continues, "Or notices that we exist. And then we get lost in the in between of almost there, but not quite. _But_ , if you can somehow, some way, keep them thinking about me, and make me more than an abandoned memory... That would mean that we matter _too_. It means that someone will see, and someone will understand that you are even there."

Brendon turned back to look at Ryan, interested in what he was saying, now. "No one deserves to be forgotten, Brendon. No one deserves to just... fade away. No one should just come and go, and have no one know he existed... No one deserves to disappear."

Brendon started to nod, "It's true, you're right!"

"Even if you've always been the wallflower kinda guy, you _still_ matter. And even if you're someone who can't escape the feeling the world's passed you by, you _still_ matter." Ryan tells him, and Brendon nods again, standing up.

"Even if you never end up doing some crazy thing,"

"That doesn't mean you're not worth being remembered." Brendon finishes and mind-Ryan grins at him.

"And people need to know, Brendon."

"They need to know, and I need be the one to show them, that no one deserves to be forgotten. They shouldn't have to wait around or have any type of doubt or confusion on whether or not they matter." Brendon grabs his bag from the floor, and pulls out his laptop.

"You know what you need to do, don't you, Brendon?" Mind-Ryan tells him, leaning against his doorway.

Brendon looks up at him, but the mind-Ryan was already gone. It was fine, though, because Brendon _did_ know what he had to do now. He knew that Jon and mind-Ryan were right. He knew that if he didn't help to keep Ryan's memory alive, no one else would, and maybe the intentions were slightly selfish—he didn't want to fade away either—but it was going to be fine, if he could just get his plan off the ground.

And to do that, he needed Jon and Dallon's help.

-

After school the next day, Brendon was standing in front of a table in the empty cafeteria, Jon and Dallon sitting on the other side. He handed them a pamphlet, "I'm calling it the Ryan-Project."

"The Ryan-Project?" Dallon looks at the pamphlet, confused as to why he was looking at Brendon's weird jerk-off fantasy's dead brother's face.

"Yeah, it's like a student group that's completely dedicated to keeping Ryan's memory and story alive... and showing that everybody matters and that everybody is important," He elaborates.

Jon sighs and grins, "I am _so_ honored, I would _love_ to be vice president of the Ryan project!"

"Vice president?" Dallon and Brendon ask at the same time.

Jon laughs, "You're right! We should definitely be co-presidents."

"Yeah, no, definitely! That sounds great," Brendon needed Jon's help with this, so if he had to deal with his slightly show-off-y ways for a little while, he could get over it.

"I like the way you think," Jon grins. "And you can be treasurer, Dallon! Or secretary. Unfortunately, the co-president position has already been filled... by me."

Dallon moved his chair a little further away from Jon. If Ryan used to scare him, Jon near _petrified_ him. His personality was just a little much for Dallon to handle. Or for most people to handle, really. "Well, shit." He says, just to make Jon feel better.

"Guess I need new buttons..." Dallon looks at one of his buttons that was on the table, "Unless... do you think we could fit "The Ryan Project" on these buttons?"

Jon leaned over, "I mean, depending on the font size—"

"Wait, you guys, you really think we should do this?" Brendon still wasn't sure if it was even going to work!

Jon looks at Brendon in complete disbelief, "Are you kidding, Brendon? We _have_ to do this. But not even just for Ryan... for everyone."

"Cause... cause no one deserves to be forgotten." Brendon tells them.

"Right." Jon confirms.

"Don't either of you think we should at least tell Ryan's parents about this first?" Dallon asks, leaning back in the seat, "I'm all for it, but they should be the first to know."

"Of course," Jon says, "I totally agree. We should go over now!"

 

-

And that's how Brendon found himself standing in Ryan's parent's dining room once again. George, Cynthia, and Spencer were all sitting around the table, and Brendon stutters out, "We're calling it the Ryan project."

"The Ryan Project?" Cynthia asks, intrigued.

"Yes! Imagine... imagine a major online presence," Brendon hands Jon a pamphlet, who hands it to Cynthia.

"With links to educational material," Jon adds.

"A massive fundraising drive—" Dallon starts, but Brendon cuts him off, sitting in a seat across from the family.

"To help people like Ryan." Brendon finishes.

Jon sits next to him, and Dallon sighs, sitting next to Jon. "And for the kickoff," Jon starts, "A school-wide memorial assembly next week. We want whoever wants to, to be able to get up and talk about Ryan. Share memories and stories, talk about his legacy, that kind of thing."

George grabs the pamphlet, "I didn't realize Ryan meant this much to people..."

"For... for the assembly, I was thinking... maybe the jazz band could do something?" Brendon turns his attention to Spencer, who had been silent this entire time.

"Oh... uh, yeah, maybe." Spencer replies.

"Great idea, Brendon!" Dallon all but yells.

"Thank you, Dallon," Brendon mutters and elbows Dallon a little too hard in the ribs.

"Fuck you," He whispers to Brendon, who just grins as if nothing had happened.

"Brendon," Cynthia gets up and walks around the table, "This is just _great_. I'm so glad someone else has seen that no one deserves to be forgotten."

"Or disappear," Jon adds.

Spencer didn't look at all impressed at the situation, and when the conversation wraps itself up, he doesn't hesitate to leave the room as quickly as possible. He still couldn't get past what was going on, and how everything was acting like Ryan was such an amazing person. It seemed that he was the only one on his side right now.

And when Brendon kissed him, he thought that _maybe_ things would change for him too. Maybe something would come from it... but he freaked out and he ran away, just like he always does... and now it seems as nothing is going to happen.


	9. Broken On The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon tries to come up with the confidence to speak at the assembly about Ryan.

"Oh, Brendon, before you go, I have something for you." Cynthia stops Brendon as the group files out of the house a few days later, finishing the final touches on the assembly plans.

Dallon glances at Brendon, who gestures him away. "I'll walk," He tells him.

Dallon shrugs, it didn't affect him that much, so he was fine with whatever. Brendon turned back to Cynthia, who was grinning, and hand her hand wrapped tightly around something.

"Here, for you." She says, putting the item in her hand.

"What?" He was confused, looking at the item, which turned out to be a striped tie.

"For tomorrow. For the assembly!" She looks thrilled, while Brendon, on the other hand, felt his stomach drop to the floor.

"Oh?"

"There's a funny story behind that, ya know," She smiles sadly at the tie, "When Ryan started seventh grade, my friend told me it was Bar Mitzvah season, that he'd be going to a party every weekend. So, I took him and we went and got a suit, shirts, ties..."

Her tone of voice, and the feeling in the room changes, as she dabs her eyes, "He didn't get invited to a single party that year... So, I thought you could put it to use and wear it. When you get up and give your speech."

"My speech?" Brendon mind was going at a million miles an hour, there was about a thousand reasons as to why he could _not,_ under _any_ circumstances, get up in front of the _entire_ school and give a speech about him and Ryan, when he didn't even really _know_ Ryan. There was no amount of lies that could convince him that it was true when he was up in front of that many people. When that many people were watching him, and taking in his every word, just waiting to see what he did. He couldn't have that many people watching him when he inevitably crashed and burned.

"Yes! When Jon told us that anyone who wanted to could speak about Ryan, we thought for sure you'd be the first one to sign up!" When Brendon didn't reply, she continued. "Right?"

"I'm sorry—I just—no—the thing is, you see, I just don't do very well with, uhm, public speaking. I'm not, I'm not very good at it. In fact—in fact you wouldn't want me to, trust me." Brendon tried to give the tie back, but Cynthia wouldn't take it.

Cynthia was floored, she wasn't sure how Brendon could think that no one would want to hear from Ryan's _best_ friend. "Of course we would want you to, Brendon. I'm sure, actually, the _whole_ school would want to hear you talk! I know George and I do. And Spencer."

Brendon was silent. He didn't know what to say, she seemed so dead-set on him speaking, but if he got up there, in front of the whole school, and said something that didn't align with what he had told one person... it'd all be over. He'd be publicly humiliated for one, and he'd totally break the hearts of so many people. If he got up there, it would all be over for him in a matter of seconds, because his anxiety would skyrocket, and he' be left a fumbling mess in front of everyone.

"Just... think about it, okay?" Cynthia requests, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the room.

He didn't know what he was going to do—everyone, it seemed, was counting on him to get up and give some amazing speech that he just didn't feel he had in him to do. But with all that pressure on him to do so, he couldn't _not_ do it... He had to give up and give a speech, no matter how badly it went.

-

The next day, at 1:35, teachers filed in groups of students into the auditorium seats. The stage was dark, except for a single spotlight on the podium that had been set up, with The Ryan Project's logo on the front. The principal was standing backstage on the right, while Jon, Brendon, and Dallon stood backstage on the left. Brendon was trying to stop himself from having a mental breakdown, while Dallon and Jon looked fine.

Of course, they looked fine, they weren't the ones who had come up with a huge, elaborate lie about how they were best friends with a dead kid. And they didn't have crippling social anxiety, they didn't have to have anxiety and get up and try and give some amazing speech about someone they didn't know, like they'd been telling everyone they did.

Brendon had stayed up a little longer than normal the night before writing his speech onto notecards. It wasn't that great, but he felt like it was simple enough that he could do it without failing, but heartfelt enough that people would be okay with it. He glanced out to the audience, and George and Cynthia were sitting in the front row. Spencer was sitting in the pit with the rest of the jazz band, who were playing some song in dedication to Ryan. Brendon wasn't really listening when the principal announced it, too freaked out in his own to pay attention to anything else.

But songs only last like four minutes, and the next thing he knew, the principal was thanking the jazz band, and announcing what The Ryan Project was, and that anyone would be able to speak— _after_ Brendon did—and talk about Ryan and how amazing he was. And then he was saying, "And now, Brendon Urie." And Jon was pushing him out to the podium.

The spotlight on the podium blinded Brendon as he stumbled behind it. He was already sweating, and the heat from the light didn't help at all. He looked down at his notecards, which were slightly smudged from the heat from his hands, and he took a deep breath. He was Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross' alleged best friend. He could do this. 

He had to do this, for Ryan. 


	10. You Will Be Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon speaks at the assembly.
> 
> It ends up working out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of act one.
> 
> Act two isn't finished, and I'm writing that currently. I've just been transferring all of this from my Wattpad.

"Good morning students and faculty," Brendon started off too loudly, flinching away from the microphone. "I, I just wanted to talk to you today about my best friend, Ryan Ross."

So far, things weren't going terrible. Then, he glanced up, and past all the blinding lights, he could see a sea of faces, and his hands started to get sweatier, his breathing picked up, and his heartbeat spiked. _So_ many people were staring at him, just waiting, listening to _him_ talk.

He quickly looked back at his note cards, flipping the one he was done reading from to the back. "I'd like to tell you about the day that we went to the old Adam's Smiles Apple Orchard. Uh, uh, Ryan and I, we stood there under an oak tree, and Ryan said he wondered what the world would look like from all the way up there, so we decided to find out."

He flipped another card, willing himself to calm down, and not look back up at the audience. If he didn't look at the people watching him, he'd be fine, and he could do this.

"We started climbing slowly, one branch at a time, and when I finally looked down, we were already 30 feet in the air. Ryan just looked at me, and smiled that way he always did." Brendon was feeling good, so he looked up. "And then, um, um, um, that's wh—um, then I fell."

It felt like that presentation he gave in 6th grade, or so, when he couldn't speak, and just stood there and said 'um' over and over for a moment. "I lay there on the ground and, uh," Brendon glances back down at his cards, flipping another one, "Good morning students—"

Brendon felt his entire world come crashing down as he heard laughter fill the auditorium. "Oh god no," He whispered, as he started flipping through his notecards. They weren't all there; he could have _sworn_ they were all there before he came on stage. Why weren't they all there? "Sorry," He started, and then all his notecards slipped out of his awkwardly sweaty hands and fell to the floor.

It felt like he was in some bad movie, and that everyone was going to laugh at him as they all realized what a fuck up he was. He bent down to grab all the notecards, and then looked up at the audience. But they weren't laughing at him anymore, it was like they all felt... bad for him. Bad for the kid who obviously didn't like public speaking. Bad for the kid they all thought had just lost his best friend. They weren't laughing, they were... waiting, for him to compose himself, waiting for him to tell them what he wanted to say.

But, Brendon still wanted to cry. He wanted to stand up, leave the notecards lying on the ground, dejected, run out of the auditorium and _cry_. He glanced down at the floor, his eyes catching the striped tie he was wearing. And then the weird conversation he had with mind-Ryan came back to him, and the past few weeks, and just _everything_ , and for some reason, he stood up and looked at the audience, ignoring the notecards.

"Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt... forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like... you could fall and no one would be around to see... or to hear. But the thing is... when I looked up, Ryan was there. That was the gift he gave me. He showed me that I wasn't alone, that... That _I_ mattered."

The auditorium felt suspended in a silence, everyone anticipating Brendon's next words, not knowing that _he_ didn't even know what he was going to say. "Everybody does, that's, um, that's the gift that he gave _all_ of us. I just wish..." He paused, the weight of everything coming down on him.

With Ryan's death, he had finally come to terms that maybe he did matter. Maybe he wasn't so invisible, like he thought. But, the fact of the matter is, is that Ryan didn't feel that way. Ryan killed himself because he felt as if he didn't matter. Ryan had made Brendon realize he had mattered, but Brendon could never give that back to him. Ryan didn't think that of himself, and here Brendon was... seemingly taking that from him.

"I just wish we could have given that back to him, somehow. So... let that lonely feeling wash away, and maybe there's a reason to believe that everything will be alright, and that you'll be fine. Because when you don't feel strong enough to stand alone, you can just... reach out your hand, and hope that someone will come running. And, I know, now, they'll take you home..."

Because, even if Ryan didn't ever come to get him when he was alive... the memory, and the creation of who Ryan is, in Brendon's mind, had come to get him... and wasn't that enough? In some twisted way, wasn't that good enough?

"Because, even when the dark comes crashing down on you, when you need a friend to carry you, and when you're broken, lying on the floor... You will be found. So, let the sun come streaming in, because one day, you'll reach up and rise again, with the help of those around you. Lift your head, and you will see... you will be found." Brendon's heart was still beating fast, his entire body sweating as he looked at all the faces around him, but it wasn't the same feeling as it was before.

All these people were looking at him as if he had just told them the meaning of life. He could see people crying, George... Cynthia... and it even looked as if Spencer was tearing up a little. It seemed as if what he was saying was influencing people, like people were agreeing with him, and realizing that what he was saying was true.

And in that moment, all his anxiety seemed to run away, as applause filled the room and he walked off stage. Everything seemed to be okay, like things were _finally_ looking up. Thanks to Ryan. All of this was thanks to Ryan.

-

The next day, Jon rushed up to him after school in the parking lot, phone in hand. "Have you seen this?" He asked, turning his phone so Brendon could see, "Someone filmed your speech about Ryan yesterday, and shared it. And... and now, Ryan is everywhere."

"What?" Brendon asked, looking at the phone, Dallon rushing up.

"Your speech is _everywhere_ , Brendon! This morning, The Ryan Project page 56 people following, right?"

"Well, how many does it have now?" He asked, not seeing Cynthia (who he assumed was picking Spencer up) walk up.

"Six thousand, four hundred and fifty-nine!" She exclaims, beaming as if the sun had smiled at her.

"I... I don't understand what happened," Brendon said, looking at Jon's phone in his hand.

"You did!" The three say at the same time.

"There's a place where we don't have to feel alone, now," Jon tells him.

Brendon started scrolling through the news feed on Jon's phone. There were hundreds of shares and likes, with different messages. _You need to see this, I can't stop watching this video, only 17 years old! Just take five minutes and watch this, it will change your life, share it with the people you love, the world needs to see this, I knew someone who needed to hear this, thank you Brendon Urie for doing this. I never met Ryan, but reading this post... it's so easy to feel alone, but_ _Brendon's_ _right—none of us are alone. Especially now. Thank you, Brendon Urie, for giving us a space to remember Ryan. Thank you from Vermont, Michigan, Toronto._

_Thank you, Brendon Urie._

And it was in this moment, reading the hundreds of posts affirming what _he_ said, he started to truly believe it. That... that even when it feels like everything is crashing down, and that his life was over... that there is someone, someway, somehow that he would be found. And he was, thanks to Ryan Ross. Who would never know what he did for him, which is why he had to continue to make sure The Ryan Project worked, that people _remembered_ Ryan. Because he needed it, he needed this, after what he had done for Brendon, by some miracle. And now he finally didn't feel alone, for once in his life.

It was thanks to Ryan, that he was found.

_-_

It was the next day, and Brendon was sitting on the couch in Ryan's house. Cynthia and George were out, but Spencer was sitting next to him. "Everything... everything you said in your speech, everything you've done... you don't realize how much—what you've given all of us." He tells Brendon, turning to look at him, choking up a little.

"Everyone... my family, me..."

"This wasn't... I mean," Brendon said, "It wasn't..."

"You've given me my brother back." Spencer tells him, looking him in the eye.

And in the heat of the moment, by some miracle of God, by _something_ , Spencer leans over, and kisses him.

He panics, and pulls away. It wasn't real, Spencer wasn't doing this because of Brendon, he was doing it because of what Brendon gave to him. But, Spencer didn't leave, didn't run away, didn't say anything.

And who was he hurting by giving in to love? He looked at Spencer, thought, _fuck it_ , and leaned it and kissed him back. He deserved this, he thought.

He was finally... finally who he always wanted to be.

- _end of_ _act one-_


	11. All That It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon just wants to be apart of the thing that Brendon's created. Brendon doesn't want him to be.
> 
> But Ryan does. Sort of.

Brendon's life had become a million times different in just a short month. He had thousands of people convinced that he was best friends with someone he didn't even know. He had his first boyfriend of all _time_ , who by some miracle happened to be _Spencer Smith_ , the adopted brother of the person he was pretending to be best friends with. The family loved him, the Ryan Project was going incredibly well, still, and for once in a long, long, time, Brendon was happy.

That was an incredibly peculiar thing to be able to say, to be able to _feel_ , in fact. He had gone so long wanting and wishing to just be able to disappear. Leave, never come back, and somehow find himself along the way. He never got the chance to do that, but, he wasn't sad about it, at all. Instead, he had more than he could ever wish for. It felt surreal.

Of course, his anxiety was still there. He still rambled when he got nervous, he was still nervous about everyone finding out about his lie. But, the happiness was something that blocked it out, even for just a few short moments each day. He was still Brendon... just Brendon who was sometimes happy for once.

He was re-watching the video that Jon and him had made this past week for the website, trying to feel annoyed by Jon, but mainly feeling a little fond. (Now that was even more peculiar to say. Never did Brendon ever think he would feel anything but pure annoyance when being around—or having to work with, for that matter—Jon Walker. Brendon now believed that _truly_ , anything was possible.)

"Hey, it's Jon! The Ryan Project's co-president, treasurer/secretary, head media-consultant, head technology advisor, and assistant creative director slash public policy director or assistant creative policy admission expert for The Ryan Project!"

"Hi, I'm Brendon... The co-president of The Ryan Project."

"I wish I could see all of your amazing faces out there!"

"Hope you're having an amazing day!"

"Now, I know a lot of you guys have seen the inspiration videos on our website."

"Thank you for checking out the awesome new videos we put up this week with Mr. and Mrs. Ross, and Ryan's brother Spencer—"

"And Ryan's best friend, and my co-president, Brendon Urie!"

"As you know, Ryan's favorite place in the entire world was the incredibly Autumns' Smiles Apple Orchard—"

"The _stunning_ Autumns' Smiles Apple Orchard, which tragically closed seven years ago."

Brendon shook his head; he had honestly forgot the amount of times Jon had cut him off during the making of this video. It was to be expected, though, because when Jon had something to say, there was nothing that would stop him from sharing that. Even if it meant cutting someone off. Besides, Brendon was too much of an anxious person to say anything. Confrontation made his anxiety terrible, and there was no other solution when it came to trying to get Jon to change his actions.

"Ryan loved trees—"

"Ryan was _obsessed_ with trees! He and Brendon used to spend hours together, sitting under trees at the orchard. Looking at the trees, being with the trees, and sharing fun facts they had found out about the trees."

"But the one thing Ryan wished, more than anything, was that someday, the orchard would reopen and be brought back to life for others to enjoy too."

"Which is where you come in!"

"Because today we are starting a major fund—"

"One of the most _ambitious_ kick starter initiative since the internet was first created, to raise a goal of _fifty thousand dollars_."

"Fifty thousand dollars in three weeks."

"That's a lot of money, I know. But, it's also a lot of amazing, so, let's do it guys! And—"

Together, they said, "Make the Ryan Ross Memorial Orchard not just a dream, but—"

Jon pushed Brendon out of the way slightly, to say. "A reality!" by himself.

Brendon obviously hadn't fought him, considering that any confrontation was bad confrontation, especially with Jon. The video honestly wasn't as bad as he remembered it being when they filmed, which is good. Great, even. He just hoped that their plan would work.

It would be a massive check on Brendon's lie that it was true. If he could get the orchard to be reopened, who could think that Brendon was lying? That Brendon didn't _know_ Ryan. Of course, Dallon knew. But other than that, no one had to know that he didn't know Ryan... that Ryan wasn't his best friend and didn't like trees, and that Ryan wasn't with Brendon when he broke his arm.

Now, it was time for Brendon to head over to Dallon's, who was going to help him write a few more emails for Jon, who had begun to post them on his website. He wasn't sure how him and Dallon were going to keep the stories and time lines consistent, but they were going to keep on trying.

_Dear Brendon Urie,_

_Life in rehab is alright. I like the yoga, and the sharing circles we do every day. (Surprisingly enough!) Don't some of these stories I've told you scare you to your core? I mean... so many people ending up sucking dick for meth._

Dallon paused, chuckling like a mad man.

_Oh! And one more thing, that guy from our school—Dallon Weekes? Yes! The insanely cool Dallon Weekes! I think we should start making him a part of this awesome friendship we have! Hey, cause all that it takes is a little reinvention!_

"Hey, no, Dallon! Absolutely not." Brendon stopped him from writing anymore.

"What?" Dallon was confused, seeing as the letter he was writing was fucking _awesome_. "What's wrong?"

"You weren't his friend, you're not a part of this story. I was his only friend, remember? You can't just make things up like that!"

Dallon was floored, and turned to Brendon, "You know what? You're _totally_ right. I mean, what was I **thinking**? Just _making things up_ in a completely fabricated email exchange that never even happened?"

Brendon rolled his eyes, "Just please don't change the story. Please, okay?"

Dallon sighed, erasing what he had written, "Well, if you want me to redo this email, you're going to have to wait until Monday, because I have plans all weekend with my camp friends. _Or,_ as I like to call them, my real friends." He says, closing his laptop.

"Yeah... actually, I think we're good on emails for now." Brendon stands up, grabbing his jacket. "We're kinda focusing on bigger stuff, you know? The orchard? Things like that."

"Oh... well, in that case... I can do more with the kick starter, then... I mean, I am the treasurer." Dallon said, smiling at the idea of not having to write anymore stupid emails for a while.

Brendon stopped at the door, turning, "I think Jon and I are pretty much set on the kick starter, to be honest. I'll let you know if I think of anything though."

"Got it... Hey, I bet Spencer's happy that your cast is gone!" Dallon joked, gesturing to Brendon's now 'naked' forearm.

Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, hand still on the doorknob, "I guess?"

"I mean, talk about killing the mood, right? Having to see your brother's name—who was a dick to you—every time you're in the middle of—"

"Could you just not—please? Spencer and I... we're not... telling... people... about you know, us..."

"Don't even worry, bro," Dallon assured obnoxiously, "The only thing you should be worried about right now is building that orchard for Ryan, because if there was one thing about Ryan, the guy fucking loved trees... Oh, no, wait... _you_ love trees, that's weird! Isn't that weird, Brendon? Guess I shouldn't tell anyone about that, either, don'tcha think?"

Brendon didn't stay to hear anything else Dallon had to say, he was done with this conversation, and he should probably get home before his mom got too worried about him. He shut the door, leaving Dallon frustrated and annoyed—more so than usual when he was dealing with Brendon.

Dallon sighed. So much for all his help, Brendon obviously didn't care anymore. He didn't need Dallon's services anymore, so Dallon was officially unimportant to Brendon's life and plans with The Ryan Project. Fine, let him be that way, and see how it felt when he tried to come crawling back and Dallon wasn't there.


	12. Best Part of Believe is The Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon fights with his mom, who just doesn't understand.

Brendon was sitting on is bed, his laptop open to the fundraiser page. He was just checking on numbers and where they were at so far with their goal, and about how long it would take to reach it. It was going well so far, and Brendon was excited to see what the future for the orchard was going to be. If they kept increasing like this, then rebuilding the orchard in Ryan's memory didn't seem so far away anymore. It didn't seem to be just a crazy idea so much so as it did before.

"What are you up to?" His mother's voice startled him, and his shut his laptop quickly.

Brendon's mom still didn't know about him and Ryan being 'best friends', and she definitely didn't know about the fundraiser or the orchard or anything. And Brendon wanted to keep it that way for as long as he possibly could.

"Nothing much," He replies, picking at his fingernail, now that his cast wasn't there for him to distract himself with.

"I feel like every time I walk into your room, you close your computer screen, Bren." His mother's voice was laced with concern and frustration, which in turn made Brendon frustrated.

He had read online that it was probably because he still had anxiety, and he wasn't taking his medication as much anymore, so there were withdrawals, which included being easily agitated. He just didn't want to react that way to his mom, knowing that if he did anything too 'rude' or 'disrespectful' he'd be grounded, and that wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now.

"Not really." Brendon replies quickly.

"I don't know what you do on there that you don't want me to see,"

"I was doing homework, Mom." He replies tersely, trying to keep the conversation short and to the point.

His mom seemed to back down for a moment, sighing. "Do you have a minute?" She asks.

Brendon bit his tongue so he wouldn't reply with something smart-ass-y like 'do you?' because his mom _knew_ she was gone all the time, and she didn't need Brendon reminding her, and making her feel guilty about it, more than she already was.

"Actually, uhm," He stands up from his bed, grabbing his backpack. "I was just about to head over to Dallon's."

"But... weren't you at Dallon's last night?" She asks, confused, crossing her arms.

"We're doing a Spanish project together. We're going to be working late again, though, so I'll probably just... y'know, stay over." Brendon starts to go through his things, not making eye contact with his mom.

"Well... I saw the strangest thing of Facebook today." Her voice raised a little louder than before, feeling as if that was the only way to get Brendon to stop and listen to her, and have an actual conversation, rather than run and leave the moment he got the chance to.

"Oh, really?" Brendon doesn't stop his actions, grabbing his jacket off the floor, and trying to sound more interested than he was.

"Yeah, uh, there was this... this was a video from something called The Ryan Project." Brendon stops, one arm in his jacket, and his stomach dropping to the floor, "You ever heard of it? Cause their website says that you're the president."

Brendon mutters, "Co-president..."

"Right... well, this was a video of you doing a _speech_ , about that boy... Ryan Ross? Yeah, about how you climbed a tree together," She stands there, her hip cocked, and arms crossed, trying to not show her emotions too much.

In all reality, she was confused and hurt. Brendon had lied to her, and she didn't know why. She did everything in her power to show that she was _there_ for Brendon, and that he could open up to her and tell her anything and not be afraid of consequences. She had worked so hard to create a positive environment for him, and yet he still lies. And about something like this! She couldn't wrap her head around it.

"I—I... I just, just—I don't..."

"Ah!" She cuts him off, walking over to where he had sat down on his bed, "You told me that you didn't know him."

"No, no, I know—"

"But then in your speech you said he was your best friend!" Her voice had raised an octave, trying to stay calm, but finding it extremely difficult.

"Well, because, because it wasn't true when I..." He pauses, and looks up at his mom, "When I told you I didn't know him."

"So... you broke your arm with him? At an orchard? Because, you see, you told me that you broke your arm at work." She was still skeptical, not sure as to why Brendon would feel the need to lie to her about something like this.

She could have been there for him, could have helped him cope and grieve. But, instead, he kept it inside, and told her that he didn't know him at all. And then he had to go through the whole process by himself. She didn't understand what she could have possibly done to make Brendon believe that that was his only option, that he couldn't come to her and _talk_ to her about what was going on in his life and what he was feeling.

"Well, who do you think drove me to the hospital? Who do you think waited for me in the emergency room for three hours?" Brendon stands up again, "You were at work, remember? I couldn't even—you didn't answer your phone."

"No! You told me your boss took you to the hospital!" She argues.

"Well, so I lied, obviously." He stops making eye contact again, fixing the collar of his jacket.

"Well, so when were you planning on telling me _any_ of this? Or—or—you weren't?" She was getting more and more frustrated and confused as the conversation continued.

"When was I supposed to tell you exactly? You're never here!" He exclaims.

"I'm here! _Right now,_ "

"Okay, well, first time this week. Most parents... they try to do just a little more than that, just so you know." He tells her, grabbing his bag again, less scared and angrier.

"Oh, is that what you think?" She wasn't even _frustrated_ anymore; no, she was _livid_.

"I'm going to Dallon's."

She steps toward his door, "Well, I don't think I want you going out right now!"

"I told him I'd be there like ten minutes ago!" He exclaims.

"Listen, I am missing class tonight so that I could be here to talk to you!"

"Oh, isn't that just _great_?" Brendon replies sarcastically, "I didn't ask you to do that!"

"Brendon, I would like you to please _just talk to me_!"

"Look, I can't just stop doing school just because you decide to miss class. I can't stop everything I'm doing, and my entire life whenever you decide it's convenient for you!"

"I don't understand what's going on!" She walks toward him.

"No, nothing, nothing is going on!"

"You're at school giving _speeches_? You're president of a group? Brendon, I don't even **_know_** who that person is!"

"You're making a big deal out of nothing!" He tries to move toward the door, but she blocks her.

Brendon didn't understand why she was making this into something it wasn't. He had told her the truth... or well, the truth that everyone else knew too. She was the one who wasn't ever around, she was the one who expected him to stop his life and talk to her, because she wanted him to. She wasn't ever there to talk to, _when he_ wanted to. This wasn't his fault, okay? And she was trying to make it his fault!

"What's going on with you?"

" _Nothing_!" He was beyond exasperated, why wouldn't she just _leave_ it, and let him go?

"Why won't you just talk to me?!"

"I just did!"

Their voices overlap as both of them try to get the other to listen to them, and just _stop_.

"I'm your mother! Okay, I am your _mother_!" She screams, and the room falls silent, as Brendon steps back.

The silent was like someone had just put peanut butter in the room it was so thick. Neither of them moved for a few moments. "I'm sorry," She says, stepping back too. "I don't know why... I'm happy, okay, I'm happy that you had a friend, I'm just so sorry that he's gone. I just wish I had known."

She moves in to try and give Brendon a hug, but he moves, "Well... if you ever wanna, wanna talk—"

"I should go," Brendon says, trying to move past his mom again.

His mom spots the box where Brendon keeps his medication, and in a desperate attempt to get him to stay a little longer and talk, she rushes over to it. "Are you okay on refills?"

She pulls out an almost completely full bottle, shocked. She had refilled this three weeks ago, it should be almost empty or totally empty by now.

"I'm not... I'm not taking them anymore," He explains to her confused face.

"Oh?"

"I... I haven't needed them."

"Really? So, no... no anxiety?" She asks.

"I've been... I've been fine." He tells her.

"That's great! That's really great! I'm proud of you! I guess those letters to yourself must've really helped!" She hugs him, happily.

Brendon's heart sunk... She had no idea that those letters were what _ruined_ everything... but was the whole reason everything had gone right, too... So in a way, she was right... the letters really did help.

"Yeah, I guess." He says, smiling softly at her.

She sits on his bed, looking at the bottle, and then back up at him, "Well, don't stay up too late. It's a school night!"

He grins, "I won't!" He exits the room, leaving her sitting on his bed, staring at the bottle and wondering when things had changed so drastically.

Brendon just felt guilty that he had lied to her, again. He wasn't going to Dallon's, obviously. Spencer's family had invited him over for dinner again, and he had promised that he'd be there.

And despite his mother knowing and supporting his sexuality, he wasn't sure if that was a secret he ever wanted to tell. Or if he ever wanted his mom to know that he was spending time with the family, either. That all just sounded like a recipe for complete and utter chaotic destruction.


	13. To Break In A Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon bonds with George, because he never had a real Dad.

"Oh, yeah, this was signed by Babe Ruth." George says, handing Brendon a baseball inside a plastic cube.

"Oh, wow, that's insane." Brendon stares at the signed baseball.

"Yeah, if you can get the right people to come to an auction, baseball fans, y'know, we could raise a thousand bucks for the orchard -- easy." George explains.

Brendon nods, "It's a great idea, yeah, I'll definitely talk to Jon about it and hopefully set it up. This is really generous of you to donate all this stuff."

Spencer sticks his head into the garage, where Brendon and Lenny were standing by Lenny's work bench. "Mom says your show is on, and she doesn't want to DVR it again," Spencer says, smiling at Brendon.

Brendon smiles back, glancing down at his hands. "Tell her we're busy, right now." George turns back to the box of baseball memorabilia on his work bench.

"With what?" Spencer asks, leaning against the doorway.

Brendon looks up, "Your Dad had a great idea to raise money for the orchard--an auction."

"Yeah, we were just going through my collection," George takes a baseball glove out of the box and sets it on the bench.

"Dad, are you torturing him?" Spencer asks.

George looks up, confused, "What?"

"Brendon, is he torturing you?"

"No, what?" Brendon asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"You can tell him he's being boring and that you wanna leave, he won't get upset." Spencer tells him.

Brendon couldn't tell if Spencer was joking completely or not. There was a little glint in his eye, but his face was dead serious.

"He can leave anytime he wants!" George interjects.

"I don't wanna leave," Brendon turns to George, assuringly.

"Brendon, do you wanna leave?" Spencer asks.

George turns to Brendon, "If you wanna leave--"

"I don't wanna leave!"

Spencer winks at Brendon, "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Spencer leaves the garage, the door shutting behind him as he reentered the house.

"Pft-ha-pft," George scoffs, "Spencer... is..." he says weakly.

"Right?" He asks, not finishing his statement, turning back toward Brendon who smiled weakly.

"I know..." Brendon's voice went up at the end, and then trailed off into silence.

Spencer's family didn't know anything about Spencer and Brendon kissing--multiple times, mind you. He wasn't sure if Spencer was even out to his parents, and didn't know how his parents would react. His mother knew he was gay, but obviously didn't know anything about Spencer's impact on his life.

He wasn't sure where Spencer and Brendon stood on a relationship level. Depending on the day, it fluctuated. Some days it felt as if it was SpencerAndBrendon. Other days it felt as if it was Spencer. And Brendon. He definitely didn't have an clue as to how it was coming across to Spencer's parents, either.

"So... you and Spencer..." George said, glancing at the door and then back at Brendon.

Brendon shoved his hands into his pockets, almost turning completely away from George. His stomach dropped, and it felt as if his heart was in his throat. 

"No, it's... it's nice." George told him.

Brendon looked back at George, the statement not sounding incredibly sincere, but George had a thoughtful look on his face.

Brendon looked at the baseball glove on the work bench and spout out quickly, "This glove is really cool, wow." And grabbed it, his voice void of any true emotion.

George walked back over to the bench, "Feel how stiff the leather is?"

Brendon bent the glove, the leather not giving much. "Yeah, sure." Brendon told him, glad for the subject change, handing the glove to George.

"It's never been used," George told him, glancing longingly down at the glove. "I'm sure you have your own glove at home."

Brendon didn't though. "Oh, yeah, sure. Somewhere. It's been a long time, though, I don't know if it really fits me anymore."

George hands the glove back over, "Then why don't you take this one?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't--"

"Well, if you need a new glove... this one's just gonna sit here in the box, if you don't take it." George tells him.

Brendon grabs the glove, "Are--are you sure?" Brendon asks.

"Brendon, I bought this glove a thousand years ago, for some birthday or some Christmas. I thought we... Connor and I, that is... might play catch or... I dunno... But he left it in the bag with the tag still on." George shakes head, "You'll have to break it in, though, can't catch  _anything_ with it this stiff."

"Well... how, how do you break it in?" Brendon asks, looking at the glove in his hand.

George was shocked, "Your dad never taught you how to break in a baseball glove?"

"I guess not..." 

"It's all a process that is really quite precise, a sort of secret method known to very few. If you're wanting...  _professional_ advice, well today could be your lucky day! It's shaving cream!" George says, walking closer.

"Sh-shaving cream?" Brendon asked, completely and utterly confused.

"Yeah!  You take some shaving cream, and rub it into the glove for about five minutes. Then, you tie around it with a bunch of rubber bands, put it under your mattress and  _sleep_ on it. And then you repeat the method the next day. Now, you gotta do that for at least a week, consistently. And though, it's not easy, every second that you spend is gonna pay off."

Brendon looks down at the glove, and back up at George nodding, and smiling.

"It just takes a little patience, time, perseverance, and a little up-hill climb. You may not think it's worth it, but you can't take  _any_ shortcuts, you gotta stick it out. It's the hard way, but it's the right way, to break in a glove.

"And nowadays, with your generation, it's always about instant gratification. Like... like, who wants to read a book when they can read a facebook instead?"

Brendon nodded, and didn't bother to correct George on how facebook's interface actually worked.

"But with something like this, you gotta be ready to put in the work, make the commitment. What do you say?"

''Yeah, definitely!"

"Cause there's a right way in everything you do. You gotta follow through, even when everyone around you thinks you're crazy. Whether you're trying to ace a test, or you're a thousand miles away from some goal... Or you're just trying to do your best for a kid who's lost control..."

George's voice trails off as he implies his feelings about his relationship with Connor. He didn't want to ruin the nice 'bonding' time he was having with Brendon, and bringing Connor up like that was a sure-fire way to do so.

"... You do the hard thing, cause it's the right thing to do..."

"Connor was, uh, Connor was really lucky to have a Dad who cared so much about uh, about taking care of stuff." Brendon tells him.

George chuckled humorlessly, "Yeah, your Dad must feel pretty lucky to have a son like you," 

Brendon's heart dropped, and his didn't have the guts to tell George that his Dad wasn't in the picture. That his Dad hadn't been in the picture for  _years_.

"Yeah, he does." Brendon says quickly, grabbing his bag.

"Good," George says, and looks at Brendon, realizing that he wanted to leave. "Well, if you want to go catch up with Spencer, you can."

Brendon nods and starts to walk to the garage door, but stops.

"I don't... uhm, I don't know why I said that about my Dad." He blurts out, and then mentally face palmed-- _why did he do that?_

"That is uhm, that is not true... My parents got divorced when I was seven and my Dad moved to Colorado. Him and my step mom, they have their own kids now... so that is sort of his... his priority, now." Brendon explains.

George smiles at Brendon, picking up a can of shaving cream and handing it to him. "Shaving cream, rubber bands, mattress, repeat. Got it?"

Brendon grins, "Got it."

"You're good to go, then." George says, patting Brendon on the back.

"Thanks--thanks!" Brendon says, and grabs the doorknob of the garage door.

Is this... Is this what it felt like to have an actual Dad?

 

 


	14. Only Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer wants his relationship with Brendon to be only about them. Not about Ryan.
> 
> Brendon's okay with that.

After Brendon had left George in the garage, he and Spencer decided to go to Brendon's house, because he knew that his mom wouldn't be home. And as much as Brendon liked being around Spencer's parents, sometimes it was nice to have some privacy with Spencer.

"So when does your mom get off work?" Spencer asked, messing mindlessly with the papers sitting on Brendon's bedside table.

"Oh, uh, she has classes on Sunday night, so she won't be home for another few hours," Brendon replied.

"We should throw a kegger!" Spencer said obnoxiously.

"We should _definitely_ throw a kegger," Brendon replied from the other side of the room.

"Until your mom gets home." Spencer deepened his voice to sound like the stereotypical college frat boys.

Brendon followed suit, "In three hours!"

Spencer laughed, and sat on the Brendon's bed. "Thank you, uhm, thanks for coming over." Brendon said, awkwardly messing with the zipper on his jacket.

"You know, I've been asking to come to your house for weeks and every time you've immediately said no." Spencer told him smiling.

"Yeah, I know," Brendon blushed, "That's why I'm so glad you're here now."

A quiet-ness fell on the two, and Spencer looked back at the papers on his bed side table, "What are all these?"

Brendon seeing what Spencer was pointing at, almost _literally_  dived across the bed to grab them. He wasn't _embarrassed_ , per se, it was just that Spencer's family didn't really have an issues with money, and those were the college scholarships that his mom wanted him to look into and like... their lives were just really different.

"These--" Brendon sat up, "My mom she's just obsessed with those college essay scholarships online... She just keeps printing out more of them." Brendon shoved the stack of papers into one of the drawers under the bed.

"There's so many..."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Brendon stood up, rubbing his face, "And I'd have to win like a hundred of them to actually pay for college, they're stupid." He turned back to Spencer who was looking at him thoughtfully. 

"Your parents... they can't...?" Spencer trailed off, but the question he was implying floated heavily in the room.

"No... not really." Brendon replied playing with his now cast free hand.

"I'm sorry." Spencer said, but the awkwardness was already there.

After a moment it got too much for Brendon who walked quickly to the other side, "Oh! I meant to tell you we had a meeting for The Connor Project a few days ago, I think we have a great strategy for raising money for the orchard."

Spencer stood up and started making noises, "Can we talk?" He asks.

Brendon sighed loudly, his heart sinking as he stared at his hands, "Shit."

"What?" Spencer asked, confused.

Brendon knew it was just a matter of time before this happened. He knew that him and Spencer... it was too good to last. It couldn't last. They were too different.

"No, it's just, you're breaking up with me right? That's why you came over, so..." Brendon said quickly, trying to add humor into his voice that he really didn't feel.

"Breaking up with you?" Spencer asked shocked, because that was _so_ not where he was going with the question.

"I know, I know, how  _presumptuous_ of me, cause like I don't even know if we're dating officially." He used his fingers to make the quotation marks as he sound officially, his voice sounding less 'humor'-y and more hysterical.

Brendon walked over, "Which is fine, you can tell me. I'm not gonna start to cry or like breaking things."

"I'm not breaking up with you!" Spencer exclaimed, making Brendon stop, turning and awkwardly rubbing his neck.

"Okay... thank you..."

"Don't mention it?" Spencer said questioning as Brendon turned back to him.

"I don't want to keep this a secret anymore," Spencer told Brendon. "I'm out, I'm fine with who I am... I want everyone to know."

"Oh." Brendon was not expecting that, _ever_.

"I mean, what are we afraid of? What are we hiding?  You're out too..." Spencer told him.

"Well, people... they might think... that it's not, I don't know, respectful of Ryan... for us to be dating..." Brendon tried to explain, but the words weren't coming out like they sounded in his brain and they sounded kind of stupid out in the open.

Spencer stared at him, not saying anything. "I know, I know... but like, I was his best friend and you're his brother..." Brendon continued.

"Yeah, but when do _we_ get to be more than that?" Spencer asked, rubbing his arm. "It's just... my entire life, everything has _always_ been about Ryan. And now I just... I need something that's just for me, okay? I don't want this relationship to be about my brother, or the orchard, or the emails. I just want..." Spencer looked up at Brendon, "You."

Brendon was shocked, he didn't know _what_  to say. No one had ever said or expressed anything like that to him.

"I don't need you to sell me on reasons to want you. I don't need you to search for the proof that I should...  You don't have to convince me, you don't have to be scared you're not enough." Spencer walked over, grabbing Brendon's hand in his, and smiling at him, "Cause what we've got going is... good."

Brendon smiled back at Spencer, not believing that this was actually happening, that someone he had had a crush on for _so long_  felt this way about _him._  The fucked up person that Brendon was.

"I just... I don't need any more reminders of everything that's been broken. We can't compete with all that." Spencer said, laughing slightly and walking back over to Brendon's bed.

"So what if it's us? What if it's us and _only_ us? And what happened before won't count anymore or matter, can we try that? What if it's you and me, and that's all that we need it to be? And the rest of the world falls away? What do you think?" Spencer asked, grinning at Brendon.

Brendon smiled back, "I never thought that there'd be someone like you who would want me..."

"Well?" Spencer said, shrugging.

"So I came up with ten thousand reasons to not let me go. But if you really see me, if you like me for me and nothing else... that's all that I've wanted for longer than you could ever possibly know." Brendon walked over, sitting next to Spencer on his bed, and grabbing his hand. "And... I guess, it can be us and only us. Nothing else has to matter anymore, it can just be... Spencer and Brendon. The rest of the world doesn't get a say anymore."

"It's not so impossible," Spencer said leaning into Brendon's shoulder.

"Nobody else but the two of us here." Brendon rested his head on Spencer's.

"We can just watch the rest of the world disappear until you're the only one I see... It's just you and me." Spencer said quietly.

"You and me, that's all that we need it to be." Brendon whispered.

Spencer pulled away, looking in Brendon's eyes, grinning.

Brendon had to choke back tears, he didn't know how to deal with the feelings that Spencer was causing him, but then Spencer kissed him again and Brendon knew that he didn't have to deal with these things by himself anymore.

Because he had Spencer, and that's all he needed.


	15. Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lie about Ryan is beginning to cause Brendon more issues than what he thinks it's worth.

Brendon was stopped as he walked into the school by Jon Walker which seemed to be a normal thing lately. "Where were you last night? I waited in the senior parking lot for 20 minutes!"

Then it hit Brendon that him and Jon were supposed to hand out posters last night downtown together to promote the Ryan Project. "Shit! I totally forgot!"

"I just handed out the posters without you but--"

"I'm really sorry, I must've put the wrong date into my phone." Brendon apologized.

"What's your deal, Brendon?" Jon asked, crossing his arms. "The kickstarter deadline is a week away, and I feel like your mind is always a thousand miles away."

"I've just... I've been busy." Brendon said, messing with his zipper again.

"Busy with what?" Jon asked, grabbing Brendon's arm and moving them to the side of the hallway, away from the oncoming stream of students entering the school building.

"Just... just other stuff," Brendon asked, trying to change the topic. "How much do we have left to raise?"

"Not much, just 17 thousand dollars." Jon said, glancing around them and then back to Brendon.

"Well, I'm sure we'll get there! We just need to keep people engaged." Brendon said and turned to walk away.

"Exactly!" Jon stopped him again, "That's why I'm putting the emails between you and Ryan online!" He said excitedly.

Brendon stopped in his tracks, his stomach dropping. "What? What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Smith sent them to me! She said there's a ton more, and that you send her a new one like every week." Jon said, and Brendon turned back and walked toward him.

"But those, they're not meant to be seen by anyone else..." He tried to explain, but didn't know how to. "They're private."

"Not anymore," Jon shrugged, "They belong to everyone now. That's kind of the whole point, the more private they are, the better. That's what people want to see. That's what will get people to donate to our cause."

Brendon couldn't think of anything to say, but Jon kept talking, so it wasn't a huge issue. "I'm gonna send you a list of questions to answer, too, because some of the emails don't make much sense." 

"What do you mean?" He asked, confused. Jon didn't know, he couldn't know.

"Oh, like, for instance, you told everyone the first time you went to the orchard was when you broke your arm. In some of the emails, though, you talk about going since last November." Jon said, pulling on the strap of his bag.

"Well... I'm sure they're just typos," Brendon bullshitted, "It sounds like you're just reading into the emails _way_  too much." 

"That's fine, you can explain it all when I send you the questions! You know how much everyone loves hearing from you." Jon said, patting his arm and walking into the other direction.

Brendon was shocked... he didn't know _what_ to do anymore. He had to figure out how to fix this, and quick.

He got to his locker right as Dallon did, too. "Hey, so my parents are going out of town this weekend. They haven't touched our liquor cabinet since like... 1997, so you and I can drink anything we want!" Dallon told him excitedly.

The last thing on Brendon's mind was drinking from Dallon's parents liquor cabinet. "Yeah, I can't this weekend... I have 17,000 dollars to raise." Brendon told him, opening his locker. "Remember the Ryan Project, that _you're_ supposed to be working on too?"

"Uh, remember you told me you didn't need my help?" Dallon shot back.

Brendon sighed throwing his arms up, "Well I didn't tell you to do nothing! I know you think it's all a big joke, but it isn't. It's important." Brendon said, turning back to putting his books into his locker.

"For Ryan." Dallon deadpanned.

"Yeah?" Brendon asked, not looking at him.

"You know... when you really stop to think about it, Ryan being dead is pretty much the _best_ thing to ever happen to you, isn't it?" Dallon shrugged.

Brendon stopped, looking at him, "That's a horrible thing to say, Dallon."

"No, think about it! If Ryan hadn't died, no one would even know who you are! I mean, people at school now? They actually talk to you. Like... you're almost _popular,_ which is just a wonder of wonders. A miracle, really, Brendon."

Brendon slammed his locker shut, "I don't care about any of that! I don't care if people at school talk to me. All I wanted is to help--"

"Help the Smiths." Dallon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. I know, you keep saying that."

"Hey Dallon, Brendon!" Spencer said walking over with his drumsticks in hand.

"Hi!" Brendon said, smiling at him as Spencer laced their fingers together.

Dallon watched in shock as Spencer kissed Brendon on the cheek. "Look at you." He said extremely unenthusiastically, "Helping the Smith's." 

Dallon turned on his heel, walking away, leaving Brendon angry and Spencer confused. "What was that?" Spencer asked, confused.

"It's... it's nothing. I'll, I'll walk you to your class." Brendon told him, and Spencer nodded as they began to walk in the other direction that Dallon had walked off in.

Brendon's mind was racing. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, things weren't supposed to go like this. The emails weren't supposed to be published, Dallon wasn't supposed to hate him... None of this was right. None of it.

-

Things got worse that night when he got home to see his mom dressed up a little nicer than usual, "Oh. Hi, where are you going?" Brendon asked, dropping his things off on the floor.

"The Smith's invited us over for dinner tonight, I figured it was the right thing to accept considering how close you and Ryan were." She said, smiling at him.

"Oh." Brendon was freaking out. 

There wasn't a single thing that could happen today that could make this worse. They invited his _mom_ over, who was already mad at him for spending so much time over there. There was so much that the Smith's knew that Brendon's mom didn't, and if they were together...

Things were not going to go well, at all. Shit was going to hit the fan, and Brendon wasn't ready for that at all.

It felt like last summer when he was climbing that stupid fucking tree, and he didn't realize how high he had gotten.

This entire lie was like that stupid _fucking_ tree, and it was only now that Brendon realized that maybe he had climbed a little too high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is all I have written lmao
> 
> I'm currently working on trying to finish the story + I'm close. Maybe like five or six more chapters?
> 
> But here ya'll go. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
